Another Way to Die
by AudioRKO
Summary: Bailey must keep her friend alive. No complications. But running into the man who left you for dead can ruin that. WAY BETTER THAN IT SOUNDS M for the usual
1. Just Another Way to Die

**Hello readers, now I know another damn Daryl/OC fanfic. But I hope it'll be something you like! I'm stuck at my mom's for a while after a huge medical shocker. So until I am given the green light I'm staying at her house. So that gives me time to write as much as I can. Then I go back to my boyfriend's with no internet, but I plan to update as much as I can. Intro is really short so chapter one will be posted along with it. So enough of my babbling, on with the story!**

**-oOo-**

_Another ringer with the slick trigger finger for Her Majesty  
>Another one with the golden tone voice and then your fantasy<br>Another bill from a killer turned a thrill into a tragedy  
><em>

_A door left open  
>A woman walking by<br>A drop in the water  
>A look in the eye<br>A phone on the table  
>A man on your side<br>Someone that you think that you can trust is just  
>Another way to die<br>_

_Another tricky little gun giving solace to the one that will never see the sunshine  
>Another inch of your life sacrificed for your brother in the nick of time<br>Another dirty money, heaven sent honey turning on a dime_

_It's just another way to…  
>Hey…<br>It's just another way to…  
>You've got to….<em>

_Another girl with her finger on the world singing do what you wanna hear  
>Another gun thrown down and surrendered took away your fear<br>Another man that stands right behind you looking in the mirror  
>It's just another way…<br>Suit 'em up, bang bang!  
>Bang, bang, bang, bang.<br>_

**-oOo-**

**Introduction**

His truck was gone, even his brother's motorcycle. The cabin was still lite from the kitchen and his bedroom. Clothes and beer bottles strewn across floors and cabinets emptied. Even the large gun rack was missing the two powerful shotguns and long range hunting rifle. All the things that defined the Dixon brothers... gone. _He left without me... _

Bailey ran back to the idling Camino and dug the heel of her palms into her eyes to keep from crying. _He left without_ _me._ The words played over in her head, chanting in amusement. Of course he left her, all she was, was a piece of ass to him. Not his girlfriend, lover, spouse. Just a piece of ass.

She pulled over on the dirt road, eyes to blurred to even see past the windshield. She was alone... Mother dead, mother's boyfriend dying... Daryl. No one. Bailey crawled into the backseat, not even feeling the blood that stained most of her skin and white sundress. She was on her own, no one to keep her safe, no one to make sure she'd be fed or hydrated. And she wasn't sure where the hell to go.

The dead had risen and there was no one she could turn to.

Bailey waited well after the sun had set to climb back into the driver's seat, turn the ignition and drive. No direction, no sense of awareness. She didn't even flinch when the El Camino plowed into the elderly Mrs. Austine, or what used to be her.

She made only one stop before skipping town. Using the only window that opened into her bedroom, she hefted herself in and quickly began shoving clothes into her shoulder bag and stood in the small, dark room, fingers brushing over the left corner of her twin matress. Before another thought she lifted it to grab the handful of composition notes books, her journals, and stuffed them into her pack. Then turned to the window leaving her room for what she knew was the last time. Ignoring the rotting meat smell coming from her mother's twice dead corpse, or that her mother's other half no longer garbled out curses and insults when she had let him bleed out in the grungy kitchenette.

**Chapter One**

"Smile girls, come on," Mr. Law replied, as Bailey and Kirby gave animated, toothy grins that made Mrs. Law chuckle. Kirby gave out a long howl and threw up her cap. The two had just graduated from Little Haven High School and had very different plans after that summer. Kirby would go on to university to major in fashion design, while Bailey had a job set with Mr. Foster just outside town to watch over his children since his wife was taken to Greenbriar Home dying of uterine cancer.

Kirby's parents hugged both girls and left back towards home in their shiney black SUV. Bailey followed Kirby to her car, planning to drive into the next town forty-five miles from Little Haven for dinner, celebrating their end of prom, lockers and gym class.

"So you can't come over tonight?" Kirby asked, fluffing her crimson curls and clearing the black smudge of liner from under her brown eyes.

Bailey leaned back in the passenger seat of her best friend's powder blue Volkswagon Beetle and shook her head. "I have to be at Mr. Foster's early. I'm house keeping this summer. Gotta get a ride with Ennis."

Kirby sighed, turning the ignition and pulling out of the school's parking lot. "Fine but I will get you over to my house at least one day out of this week."

"I don't have to go over on Sundays. He doesn't work," Bailey offered. Kirby grinned.

"Speaking of Mr. Foster, you _do_ know who works for him right?" she asked, that wicked gleam in her eye. Bailey blinked, not knowing who she was talking about. "Really? Well it just so happens that your Momma's boyfriend labors away next to Daryl Dixon."

She rolled her eyes at Kirby's tone, hearing the flirtation there. "So?"

"_So_? What do you mean so? You've got major eye-candy instead of watching snot-nosed kids all day. Admit it, Dixon is a MILF."

"MILF?"

"Man I'd like to Fu-"

Bailey slapped her hand over Kirby's mouth before finishing the word. "Is that all you think about? Which guys are good looking enough to do _that _with?" Bailey knew her friend hadn't been a virgin since she was sixteen and was a very sexually active teenager, but Bailey would rather Kirby keep details to herself.

"Oh come on, Bailey. You're the only girl in this shithole that _hasn't_ lost her v-card. It's high time you do something about it," she preached, a subject Kirby visited often with her.

"And you think Daryl would be the guy I lose it to? Kirby, he's like thirty-five or something. Plus he's completely-"

"Hot, sexy and_ experienced_. Perfect for you. And he's not too old. You're like eighteen going on forty anyways. Besides, he thinks like any other man. Barely legal and hot. So why not? You don't have to date the guy, just get him in your pants."

"And what if I don't want him in my pants? Maybe I want to save myself 'til I'm married."

She snorted at Bailey. "Please every single woman would jump his bones if there was ever a secret kept in town. And waiting for a husband to have sex, really? Come on it's 2009, no one wants to stay a virgin."

"If you think he's so hot, why don't you let him in _your_ pants?" Bailey shot back, getting more irritated on the topic, and more flustered of her lack of sex life that always comes to the table.

"Eh. I'm not his type." Kirby waved her hand, dismissing the spotlight Bailey was trying to push on her.

"He has a type?"

"Well, yeah. All guys do, but most of the time they don't even know what it is. Daryl Dixon would drool over the sweet, innocent virgin of the town. I bet he'd love to corrupt you. Knock that halo clean off your head and turn you into his little sex slave-" Bailey groaned and cupped her hands over her ears.

"Just stop it. Change of subject, _please_!" Kirby snickered, but complied.

**-oOo-**

Bailey rubbed her face, already tired from cleaning the house of beer bottles and food crumbs. She was stirring the spagetti sauce on the stove as Ennis sat in the recliner watching some old western movie. Her momma was still in the their bedroom, coming off whatever else her good for nothing boyfriend gave her. Bailey guessed heroin from the used needle she picked up off the couch.

Ennis Rollins was a deadbeat. He only worked for for the extra cash, since Bailey's money mostly went to bills and other necessities, to support his ever growing habits. Her mother set him on a high pedastool. Lorane Hillcrest craved the morbid attention he gave her. His looks being the main reason and the fact he was younger fed her mother's hungry ego. Ennis was handsome. But didn't bother with hs shaggy appearance. Overgrown facial hair and unkempt brown mop on his head. He was well muscled and heavily tattooed. Something her mother couldn't resist.

She was use to this, mother tweaking on drugs, Ennis not lifting a finger at home. Bailey took care of every responsibility. Bills, cleaning and cooking. Besides, the two adults were living off her inheritance. Her father, Hank Ford, and older sister Bess were killed years ago in a car accident. Leaving her to care for her mother, who never wanted her in the first place.

But once the two plates were set, she was free to disappear into her bedroom, away from everything and everyone. Bailey laid on her twin bed and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the fact that she always pulled out her guitar, not lay down and stare at the flecks above her. But Kirby's conversation was nagging her. Daryl Dixon.

Her best friend was half right. He was good looking, well in a rugged, dirty backwoods way. Sandy brown hair that was short, but somehow always managed to look a few days overdue for a haircut. Eyes that put the summer Georgia sky to shame. And well sculpted arms and she once spotted a mole hovering over his lip in the left corner.

Bailey had only seen him twice. Once when she was twelve at Jasper's, the town's only gas station and liquor store. He was getting a pack of cigerettes and filling up his blue pick up. She and her mother were just about to leave to Sommerset for her grandmother's funeral. And the second time at fifteen when Ennis had to pick her up from homecoming and made her act as designated driver because he wanted to drink with his buddies. Daryl was far off away from the rowdy men and nursing a bottle of Budweiser. The only time he noticed her, probably wondering what a kid was doing at J and I. Bailey was swinging her legs on the bar, sipping cherry coke and receiving quaters from Jack to put in the juke box.

Ever since then she hadn't seen him and now she found herself curious about Daryl Dixon. His home. What he liked, didn't like... _What is he doing right now?_ Bailey rolled the question over in her head. Picturing him drinking, smoking, or sleeping.

She sighed and turned to her side, seeing the red numbers glaring at her. Was it past midnight already? Where did time go? Bailey yawned, feeling her eyelids grow heavy.

**-oOo-**

Mr. Foster greeted her that morning, looking relieved at her arrival. Ennis gave a nod and headed straight for the stables to shovel out the horses' mess with Daryl. She eyed the blue and white truck before following Mr. Foster up to the two story house where Marcy and Micah were eating pancakes.

It was easy to get lost in her thoughts with laundry and dishes. Many times she found her eyes wandering to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of _him_. And once she realized that she had refolded the same pair of jeans more than a few times Bailey scoffed at herself and tried to ignore the burn in her cheeks.

_Stupid Kirby and her stupid words. Sex slave. Ha, he wouldn't think more of me then a misquito,_ she thought, slamming the denim down with more force than needed. She was being completely childish. For a man she did not even know she was forming a crush on a stranger. He probably didn't even know she existed.

And as much as she tried to grind these thoughts into her head, the more she couldn't get visons flashing in her mind. Things she had never thought of doing with any male. Lips brushing over untouched skin, fingers caressing places she hadn't ventured even by herself without the intention of only hygenic purposes. And then suddenly Bailey was panting, feeling heat flush all throughout her body and settle under her belly. It was foriegn and made her instantly want a shower. Like all of a sudden she was dirty, covered in filth...

**-oOo-**

Bailey went through a whole week of bringing lunch out to the stables and not seeing Daryl, only Mr. Foster or Ennis. But she did get to see him climb into his pickup as Ennis pulled his car around. Though it was never a good veiw. A flash of flannel or tuft of hair.

But that next saturday, Mr. Foster made it all change.

When noon came around Bailey balanced the tray of ice tea and plate of ham sandwichs out to the stables where she heard Ennis and Mr. Foster. Peeking in, she slowly made her way to Ennis and offered him the refreshments. Mr. Foster gave thanks and managed a weary smile that crinkled his green eyes then called out for Daryl.

"Lunch, son!" Bailey took in a breath, not realizing she was leaning forward as the scuff of boots echoed in her ears.

When he finally came into view Bailey blinked and instantly dug her teeth into her bottom lip. That heat returning ten fold and made her upper lip prick with sweat.

He was the same as she remembered. Sweaty, rough and smoothered in grime. As much as she had changed in three years he hadn't aged a day. Same hair, same eyes, same broad expanse of shoulders. Daryl took the tea from her tray and gave a slight nod then sat on a stool right beside her.

Wade Foster swallowed his bite and held his hand toward Bailey. "Daryl, this is Bailey Ford. Ennis' old lady's daughter. She'll be helpin' around the house this summer." He turned to her then. "This is Daryl Dixon."

Bailey gave a small smile at his second curt nod of the day. But when she smoothed down her light blue skirt, she felt eyes on her. She couldn't help the slight hitch in her breath. Daryl lit a cigerette and Bailey noticed that Mr. Foster and Ennis had moved to the far back of the stables, caught in a vivid conversation. This meant her and Daryl were practically alone...

She set the tray down and leaned against the post behind her, toeing the dirt and hay with her white Keds and not daring to openly stare.

"You a mute 'er somethin'?" he spoke, blowing out a long line of smoke.

Bailey let out the breath she had been holding and a quiet laugh. "No, I'm not. Sorry, I just.. Uh... I- I'm not good with starting conversation." She wanted to slap her hands over her face.

"I noticed. Ford huh? Sounds familiar."

She nodded. "Yeah, he um... He knew your brother." Bailey internally cringed Hank Ford had beat Merle Dixon to a plup when he was still with her mother. Merle had tried to sweet talk Lorane years ago. Her father had been a jealous man with his women.

It seemed to dawn on Daryl's face what she ment and snorted, apparently not affected at all by it. "Hank Ford's daughter."

The air was thick and awkward, Bailey prayed he stayed ignorant of her deep blush as earlier thoughts resurfaced. She could feel her button down sticking to her back and the sheen on her thighs. That heat had Bailey trembling. No one had dragged out a reaction like he was now.

And feeling his startling blue eyes roaming over her made every nerve tingle. It was like she was a prized game in the deep recesses of the woods and he had her in his sights. Steady. Aim. Fire.

He had moved closer, up on his feet and looming over her. Bailey gripped the post, cornered

Daryl shot a glance over his shoulder, then turned back to her, leaning his toned arm against the wooden pole. Bringing him that much closer.

Bailey slowly brought her eyes to his. They were blazing, like the blue center of a flame. She felt him curl a strand of her blonde hair around a thick, calloused finger and then it skimmed down the front of her button down with all the confidence in the world.

**-oOo-**

She ignored the phone ringing, it was the seventh time it had in the past hour. Bailey hadn't talked to Kirby in almost a month. Her head too full of his words whispering in her ear. Hot and dirty. Kirby had definately dead on about his _type_. His voice and hands had corrupted her easier than anything kirby had shared with her. And what he had told her last still was clear in her ears. _When yer alone in yer room, I won' ya to touch yerself. Underneath those white cotton panties and thinka' me_.

And oh how she thought of doing _that_. Terrifyingly curious of why he wanted her to. Daryl Dixon had told her to... Bailey shuddered, not able to even think the word.

When dinner was made, Bailey all but sprinted to her room, locking the door and shuffling to her bed. She laid their for a long while, just resting her right hand right below her naval. She couldn't place her nerves. Why was it that hard to touch her own body? She never thought of it when it had been an itch on her elbow, so how would this be different.

_Thinka' me... _And she did. Invisoning his large rough hands possesively grabbing. tongue and teeth marking sensitive skin. Hearing him groan. His chest bare, rubbing over her's.

Bailey gasped, and quickly snapped her hand away from her underwear. Then slowly let it return, moaning quietly and rolling her hips.

**-oOo-**

**Okay I will just mention, this is just to explain that the two become eff buddies. I didn't want to spend so much time with awkward glances and tension. Daryl is a bit egotistical when it comes to sex in my opinion and kinda takes advantage of her naivety (SP?). For him at this point is a conquest, and having a hard on for untouched pusseh. LOL and plus the post outbreak will come soon, just not the way you hoped. AND their will be some Daryl chapters. A few smuts too. But it'll be a tad slow for the next chapter or so. But I promise this story has a point and isn't just literary porn!**

**But review! I need the feedback. It would make my night. Please and thank you!**

**audioRKO!**


	2. Red Riding Hood

**Okay back for chapter 2. Back over with my BF so updates might be slow. But to explain a bit. There will be some time between post end of the world with these journal flashbacks. Trust me Daryl will make a real appearance and more will be written about Bailey's journey.**

**Disclaimer: I only own my OCs!**

**-oOo-**

_**little red riding hood cover amanda seyfried**_

_Hey there Little Red Riding Hood,  
>You sure are looking good.<br>You're everything a big bad wolf could want.  
>Listen to me.<em>

_Little Red Riding Hood_  
><em>I don't think little big girls should<em>  
><em>Go walking in these spooky old woods alone.<em>  
><em>Owooo!<em>

_What big eyes you have,_  
><em>The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad.<em>  
><em>So just to see that you don't get chased<em>  
><em>I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.<em>

_What full lips you have._  
><em>They're sure to lure someone bad.<em>  
><em>So until you get to grandma's place<em>  
><em>I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.<em>  
><em>I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on<em>  
><em>Until I'm sure that you've been shown<em>

_That I can be trusted walking with you alone._

_Little Red Riding Hood_  
><em>I'd like to hold you if I could<em>  
><em>But you might think I'm a big bad wolf so I won't.<em>

_What a big heart I have-the better to love you with._  
><em>Little Red Riding Hood<em>  
><em>Even bad wolves can be good.<em>  
><em>I'll try to be satisfied just to walk close by your side.<em>  
><em>Maybe you'll see things my way before we get to grandma's place.<em>

_Little Red Riding Hood_  
><em>You sure are looking good<em>  
><em>You're everything that a big bad wolf could want.<em>

**-oOo-**

She flinched at each rasp the wheel of the cheap Bic lighter made as she tried to light it. But her dirty hands and fingers were shaking so much that it seemed impossible to hold a flame. Bailey didn't even know why she had the cigerette pinched between her lips. She had'nt smoked, not once.

Bailey had saw the red and white cartons behind the counter at Jasper's. _His_ cigerettes. Marlboro Red 100s. She just grabbed as many cartons as she could. Along with any food was left on the shelves and other useful items. Like gas cans that she filled at the pump and water. Plenty of water.

After sucking in a long breath and making her thumb rigid she sparked a flame and ignited the cigerette. It was harsh and tasted bitter. Bailey coughed and blew out the smoke then took another hard pull. But it became easier after she lit another only a few minutes later.

It was late and exhaustion pushed the adrenaline from yesterday down. She had pulled the Camino off the highway, behind a large abandoned feed store and crawled into the back seat. Bailey taped a few black trash bags over the windows she took from the gas station and lit another cigerette. She pulled one of the black and white speckled journals, using the orange glow of the cigerette's cherry to read.

_I don't know why I had been so nervous. Kirby had warned several times that it could hurt, but it wouldn't be that bad or last too long. And she had been right. It was more uncomfortable than painful. And that was surprising since he used the gold condom. But after a few minutes the awkwardness had gone away and..._

**-oOo-**

Daryl stood from the couch, blinking rapidly, as he processed her words.

Bailey grabbed the shirt from the floor and covered her chest and the white bra over it. She didn't dare look up at his expression, instead she fixated on the almost full ashtray on the coffee table (which was a small board of plywood held up by two cinder blocks). She got to her feet heading towards the front door, but his voice stopped her.

"Ya' don't have ta' leave." Bailey turned to face him, his electric eyes blazing in the dim lamp light coming from atop the stove in the kitchen.

She swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump in her throat to speak. "I just didn't th-think that you'd wa-want a-"

"A virgin?" He finished for her. "Ya' know how rare it is to find _legal_ untouched pussy? In _this_ shit town?"

Bailey bit into her lip and slowly let the shirt fall. He watched as she unbuttoned her white skirt, revealing matching cotton panties. Daryl came forward, making a full circle around before Bailey felt his thick, rough fingers on her back. The pounding of her heart against her ribs and the blood rushing behind her ears was deafening. But his low, gravely voice made everything silent as he spoke into her hair.

"I ain't gonna pop yer cherry on a god damn couch, get yer lil' ass in the bedroom."

She stepped out of her skirt and headed for the farthest door down the hall he had pointed out for her.

She took a minute to look around his room. Something telling her not many girls had seen it. His room. His one place of privacy.

He had a full size matress and box spring shoved into the far corner under a window that was covered by a dark brown quilt. The matress was covered in a white sheet and indigo comforter, the two pillows without shams and of course the bed was unmade. He had an egg crate with a cut out piece of cardboard on top to hold an oil lamp, ashtray, pack of cigerettes and a silver zippo lighter. His crossbow he used when hunting leaning against it. Clothes strewn across the hardwood. And then she saw the only thing on the panelled wall. A Playboy poster of a naked busty blonde. Bailey's face became hot when she let her eyes wander to between the models legs. Out for all the world to see as she was kneeling. The woman was bare...

Bailey never thought to shave _there_. Why didn't she ask Kirby about this?

She jumped as the door clicked shut when Daryl came into the room. Bailey spun around quickly, glancing at the poster one more time and hoping he wouldn't be grossed out by her pubic hair.

He was pulling out of his flannel and started for is belt. She twirled away again and ignored the playmate smiling cheekily on the wall. Her body trembled more with each sound he made. Buckle clinking, the tearing of his zipper and the loud clump of his boots hitting the floor. When he cleared his throat she looked over her shoulder to see him in a wife beater and off-white boxers.

Daryl came to stand right over her, her eyes resting at his chest. He took hold of her jaw, not necissarily gentle but not harshly. His eyes looked into each of her hazel ones, searching. Bailey's attention were on his lips. They weren't full, yet not really thin either. And several shades darker than hers. Dusty pink. Where her's were pale, like the rest of her, and thin.

"Yer sure ya' wanna do this?" he asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner his mole sat. Bailey glanced at the stupid poster again then looked up at him. She worried her lip and nodded. His smirk growing as he let her face go, but letting his eyes trail down her small, slender body. It made her shiver.

"Uh... mmm. M-my bag. Pro-" she stammered.

"Condoms, got it." He backed away, leaving to retrive her pack and came back, his half finished beer in his other hand. Bailey took it and sat on the end of his bed.

She spent more than enough time rummaging through her shoulder bag, knowing exactly where they were before pulling the four square foiled packets out and laying them on the sheet next to Daryl who was laying down chugging the rest of the can. Each had a color for its size. Bailey flushed bright red at his amused expression. Purple for small, lime green for medium, lemon yellow for large and gold for magnum. She didn't even know what it meant, but had a gut feeling it was what Daryl would choose.

When Kirby had brought up the subject of protection she had dumped a small draw full of them on to her bed. Dozens of colors and on each wrapper were words she wasn't familiar with. Magnum being one of them. Kirby found great entertainment of Bailey's confusion and embaressment. Some said ribbed, ultra thin and studded. She stayed far from those and just asked for a noral one. Kirby gave her the three of each size and sent her on her way.

He picked up the gold one and tossed the others in the paper sack he used for trash before setting her bag down and the magnum on the egg crate. Bailey sat still as he leaned forward and pulled her face to his. His kiss was different. Not rushed or demanding like all the other times they had kissed. No Daryl was being _careful_. He was coaxing her into relaxing, bringing her against him. Bailey was then in his lap as he moved his lips down over her throat. He continued to alternate the two, waiting for her body to lose its tension.

Bailey found her hands moving about his arms and chest without permisson, but what his mouth was doing made her forget her hands.

Finally Daryl moved to the hooks of her bra and felt Bailey stiffen slightly. He brought her straps down, making her stomach flutter and fingertips tingle. When her bra fell from the bed he looked at her modest sized breast and Bailey kept still as he took both into his large hands, but gasped as his fingers brushed her tiny pink nipples. They grew tight and Bailey felt warm shocks go straight between her legs.

Daryl took one into his mouth and laved at it gently. This made her hum and arch into the affection his tongue was giving. Then a full moan when one hand moved to touch over her panties. Bailey started rolling her hips, legs spreading to straddle his thighs.

She bit back a whimper as he pulled away and made quick work of removing his wife beater. Before she could get a glimpse of his skin, Daryl smothered her with a searing kiss and reached her underwear.

It didn't take much longer for them to both be completely bare, Daryl kneeling, ripping the wrapper with his teeth. But Bailey's eyes were glued to..._it_. The first one she's ever seen. It was sticking straight out at her, twitching and, and _big_. To be honest it scared her.

She watched him slide the condom on and gulped as he laid between her legs. Bailey took several loud breaths, feeling it hard, heavy and pulsing against her. She kept her eyes shut tightly until Daryl gave her a chaste kiss.

He was staring at her face as he took hold of himself and pressed forward.

Bailey waited for pain, agony, anything equally horrible. But the only thing she felt was a dull stretching and a bolt of fire. Nothing too terrifyingly painful. It just was uncomfortable. That soon passed when he made a few slow thrusts, spitting out a string of curses and short groans.

Daryl didn't stay in the gentle pace for long and Bailey began making more noises than she deemed appropriate. And his words were dragging more out of her.

"Fuckin' hell, girl," he rasped, pushing into a little forcefully. Daryl grunted and burried his face into her neck and tangle of hair. She gripped on to his short hair and shoulder, back lifting from the matress and earning a hard snap of his hips.

This sensation building in her underbelly was coiling tighter and tighter as he continued thrusting into her. She understood why Kirby had pushed her to do this. Why she talked so much about it. It was just... _Oh God_.

Daryl rubbed into the small nub beneath the light curls, putting all his weight into one forearm. Bailey's mouth fell slack as he worked her over. The familiar, yet new, circular motions caused her to go completely rigid and shutter. That coiled feeling unwraveling and exploding more intensly then when she had done this alone.

Bailey was gasping as he put both hands flat on each side of her and slammed harshly into her, feral growls and grunts ripping out from his gritted teeth. Daryl gave a final thrust, holding himself still before dropping his head , panting.

**-oOo-**

She let her head fall back on the seat as the Camino sputtered and slowed on the highway. Of course this was her luck.

Bailey looked around the stretch of road and sighed. Nothing. She lit a cigerette and sat in the driver's seat and messed with the radio, receving only static.

It had to be late afternoon, the sun reaching the trees that lined the highway. Bailey had munched on a power bar and looked over the map more than once. The university was well over seventy miles from where she was and the last vehicle she saw was hours ago. She cursed Kirby for chosing to go so far for school.

Just as the sun was barely visible through the woods, Bailey heard the roar of a large engine growing louder. She looked through the windshield to see a monstrous rusted, red and white Dodge Ram with flood lights screeching to a stop in front of her.

When the doors on each side opened, Bailey let out a gush of air. People. Alive people.

She climbed out of the car and came forward.

The two men came toward her. One that was definately over a foot taller tha Bailey whistled and smiled. "Looky here, Gene. Got ourselves an angel."

**-oOo-**

**Please, please review! I'd love som feed back! Click dat button!**


	3. Leave Nobody but the Baby

**Back for more! I fixed some spelling and grammer in the first chapter and second. But here's the third IN DARYL'S POV! In his chapters I won't play out the episodes word for word, its been done to death in my opinion so it'll focus on the parts that aren't shown pre season and during. Any of the things that happen in the show will be refrenced and writen in the past tense. But all is through Daryl's eyes, but in third perspective.**

_**Go to Sleep Little Baby- O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack**_

_go to sleep little babe_  
><em>go to sleep little babe<em>

_your momma's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay_  
><em>didn't leave nobody but the baby<em>

_go to sleep little babe_  
><em>go to sleep little babe<em>

_everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn_  
><em>didn't leave nobody but the baby<em>

_you're a sweet little babe_  
><em>you're a sweet little babe<em>

_honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop_  
><em>gonna bring a bottle to the baby<em>

_don't you weep pretty babe_  
><em>don't you weep pretty babe<em>

_she's long gone with her red shoes on_  
><em>gonna need another loving babe<em>

_go to sleep little babe_  
><em>go to sleep little babe<em>

_you and me and the devil makes three_  
><em>don't need no other lovin' babe<em>

_go to sleep little babe_  
><em>go to sleep little babe<em>

_come lay bones on the alabaster stones_  
><em>and be my everlovin baby<em>

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Three**

The crunching under heavy leather boots made his teeth grind together. _Crunch, crunch, crunch_. He knew it'd be a rough hunt with his brother who not once picked up a weapon to hunt, but could he be any damn louder?

"_Hahck... thuuuh_." Daryl growled as Merle spat his loogie a few inches from his own boots and gripped his crossbow tighter. Apparently he _could_ be louder...

Daryl wouldn't have brought the jackass if he wasn't so worried of the females at camp. Merle wasn't above serious sexual harassment. Then there was keeping an eye on that prick officer. He and his brother constantly were at each other's throats from Merle's antics. Daryl had to keep the older Dixon from potentionaly getting himself a bullet to the head, he was all Daryl had left.

"_Gahh_. Can't ya' keep quiet? Ain't gonna catch nothin' with yer racket!" Daryl roared as Merle beltched for the third time since entering the woods. He rounded on his brother with an agitated glare that failed to affect the man. Merle only smirked, greatly amused at his annoyance.

"What's got yer panties all twisted, Darlina?" he asked, spitting closer to Daryl than the last time.

"Yer god damn, loud ass is scarin' off our food!" He was beyond irratated now, Merle wasn't stupid, but sometimes Daryl had to wonder if that was true.

"Ain't talkin' 'bout that. Since we left that shit-stain town, ya' been all broodin' and shit. It's 'bout that 'lil skirt, ain't it?" Merle asked, crossing his thick arms over his chest with a strange glint in his eye.

Daryl gritted his teeth roughly and scowled at his brother. "Ya' shut yer fuckin' mouth. Ya' don't git ta' talk 'bout her. Ya' don't say a damn word. I swear I'll-"

"What? Shoot me?" Merle let out a hard, short laugh. "Ya' ain't gonna do shit, boy. I'm all ya' got. That perdy 'lil blonde's dead. Ya' said so yerself. Ya' need ta' quit yer blubbering and pull them big boy pants up."

Daryl's entire face contorted into an expression of mixed hatred and agony. He dared not speak of her. And wouldn't tolerate his fucking brother's two cents on the subject. So he turned back to the thicket of trees, determined to leave Merle to fend for himself. But his brothers next words had him seeing red and his knuckles turn bone white with the fists he was clentching.

"To bad though. Musta' been one hella' ride fer ya' ta' keep 'er round so long. Tiny thing. Wha' was she? Seventeen? Younger? Don't matter. Fine piece a' ass anyhow."

He swiveled back to the other Dixon, fingers twitching for his bowie knife. Neither man was above murder, Daryl with legitament reasons, Merle didn't need one.

"I won't say it again, one more word and I _will_ kill ya'," Daryl threatened. Again it didn't have the seriousness he wanted.

Merle's aim was dead on, his spit landing at the edge of Daryl's pant leg. A wide smirk pulling up his lips, wrinkling the lines in his face. "Ya' ain't got tha' balls, baby brother. That American Honey took it with 'er on 'er way ta' hell. Let me ask ya' somethin'. Was she tight? Better yet, was she a virgin? Untouched, grade A pussy? Them type a' girls turn out ta' be freaks in tha' sa-"

Daryl barreled into the older man before he finished, taking both to the ground. The younger growling curses and spit as he tried to throw deft punches to any part of his brother. Merle was chuckling, blocking every move and carried on about her. Each sentence more derogative and perverted then the last. The tousel lasted only a few minutes, ending with Daryl's nose crooked and draining bright red, lip busted and from his jaw to his collarbone on the left side was turning a blue-black and began swelling. Merle only had a few splits on his cheeks, smile still pastered to his face.

Merle watched his little brother storm off the way the two had come from, heading to the quarry no doubt to nurse his wounds and stew over the young bitch that had his brother whipped.

**-oOo-**

He grunted, ignoring the nauseated feeling in his belly as he reset his broken nose. It wasn't the first time it's happened, Merle being the one to break it was old news. He rinsed the blood with the luke warm water and stared out at the rippling pond, catching his reflection. His face shattered as he tossed a rock into the center of the mirror image and went up back to camp and into his tent.

No one dared to sstop the angry, beaten Dixon... but that didn'y stop their eyes from following him into his small tent. Many silently questioning if he killed his brother. Everyone had heard enough of the comotion, not words, just Daryl's echoing shouts.

Inside the forest green and eggshell tent, Daryl was crouched on the rollaway in the corner, windows zipped and was rolling the grinded, stale bud in the thin sheet of paper. He'd pinched the Dro from Merle's stash weeks ago after he ran out of cigerettes. Merle raised hell, but forgot once he found something stronger. Daryl lit the joint and laid back on the tiny matress, toeing off his boots and taking long drags.

It didn't take much for the bud to seep into his muscles, stretching them far then going completely slack. Daryl liked that it made his thought process fuzzy. Slowed it down enough to keep it on the right track. But this time wasn't that easy. Her face faded into the corners, erasing anything else he tried to replace it with.

Daryl had rolled another when the sun had gone down. He stayed inside the nylon confines and no one the wiser disturbed him, knowing what the sick sweet smell that raidiated from inside was. Not even the cop.

He was sitting cross-legged on the cot, oil lamp burning dimly, the composition notebook in his lap. Tuning out his brother's gruff voice among others around the low campfire.

Her handwriting a bit sloppy and cursive. It was a bit difficult to read, the penmenship along with a good deal of words he couldn't understand.

She had been smart, too smart to keep up with at times. Clever too. He'd sit with her running her mouth about a random subject using words like omnivous and repugnent. Daryl would nod, pretending that he knew exactly what they ment and later try to look them up in an old dictionary, curious of their definition.

But he was able to get what the subject of her entries were. And the one he had started with on the first page was from two years ago in the fall. In the margins were doodles, flowers (he snorted at the extremely girly drawing) and stars. But the entry was one that brought on the memory of it.

_He is without a doubt the best person in all of Georgia. My little puppy has a home. Good thing to or Momma would make Ennis drown him in the lake across town. _

**-oOo-**

Daryl was sprawled out on his battered couch, cold beer in one hand and tv remote in the other. The screen set on the History Channel. A documentary on ancient cannibals playing. He was well relaxed in his sweats and wife beater.

Bailey was due later that night, having plans madde earlier to help her friend Kirby's mother re paint their mansion of a house. And he planned to hold off showering until an hour before she came. It was their usual routine. During the week they worked at Foster's Farmhouse, sneaking quickies or teasing and at nights when she could get out of the house she rode her bike to his cabin and leave at outrageous times of the early morning. Then on weekends she'd come over, fix him dinner and they spent the rest of the night fooling around.

But this Sunday was different. Not a few minutes later there was a shy knock at the front door. The only people to come to the Dixon residence and knock was Bailey and the town's police department. Merle was back in county for assualt and battery for the next several months so the latter was out. She was early, too early.

Bailey Rae stood on his small porch in a pair of faded overall shorts and light yellow shirt underneath. Her Keds stained in dirt, blonde hair in a tangled half up do, white ribbon holding it back from her flushed face. She was huffing slightly, giving away that she hauled ass on her bicycle. Her hazel eyes wide and innocent. He knew that look well enough to know it had nothing to do with her former naivety.

Daryl let her inside, eyeing her wearily. Bailey turned on her heel once in the dingy living room. That's when he noticed the canvas bag she was holding to her chest. Bailey followed his gaze and scrunched up her nose when the bag yipped. Daryl looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She cleared her throat and sighed. "I have a huge, huge favor... "

"What?" Daryl watched the bag move, high-pitched whining coming from within.

"I'll pay for anything he needs, Momma would never let me keep 'em. I'll come over and feed 'em, walk 'em. Everything."

"What?" His question had changed from cautious to disbelieving.

Bailey pulled out what was in the drawstring sack and produced a very small, wriggling puppy. He was splotched in white, black and brown. The pup began barking again and trying to escape her arms.

Daryl just stared at the mutt, watching it thrash excitedly. He was tiny, like her. _Runt of the litter_, Daryl thought. The dog's ears flapped and his short tail waggled as he whinned up at him.

"Please. I wouldn't ask you if I knew anyone else to trust him with. Me and Mrs. Law found him in her storage shed. He was alone. Please, Daryl." Bailey had tears shining in her big eyes as she pleaded.

Daryl blew out a long breath, running his hand back and forth through his short hair. He kept switching from her to the mutt before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Later I'll run ya' to the store, get 'em some food and shit. And best be here ta' potty train the thing or Imma' put 'em outside."

Bailey was nodding her head rapidly, he had to surpress a smirk. She was grinning, cheeks red and lavender paint still on her chin.

The pup leapt from her hold, landing clumsily on the hardwood and shot across the room. He was yipping wildly and Daryl instantly regretted agreeing to this. Bailey took off after him and He watched as she chased the young dog around the kitchen. It was kind of amusing. She was crouched under the fold out table, dragging him out. The furball started barking, playfully darting out of her small hands and zooming back to the living space and under the couch.

Bailey gave up after trying to call him out of hiding for a good half hour, Daryl enjoying the full view of her denim covered ass and polishing off his beer. _She better make up for this tonight._ As if to make good on that thought, Bailey tip-toed up to touch her lips to his, placing delicate, dried paint speckled hands on his chest.

She must've ment to give him a chaste, tender kiss in appreciation, but Daryl quickly snaked his tongue in her mouth, rough as always, and grabbed her ass with both hands. Bailey squealed against his mouth when he gave a hard slap on one cheek. Her hands fisted in his wife beater, continuing the kiss feverantly. The make out session was growing into the start of something else, that is until Daryl heard a squeaking growl and something tugging at the leg of his sweats.

Bailey pulled away to snatch the dog from chewing through his bottoms and gave him an apologetic smile.

Bailey had stayed until sunrise that night, making up to him time and time again. She had rolled herself from his bed, eyes heavy-lided as she made to leave. He was close to exhausted himself, but the way she drug her feet against the floor and barely managed to dress herself, Daryl hefted out of bed with a grunt.

"Drive ya' back. Gonna keel over in the middle the street. Can't have ya' run over."

She nodded, a yawn stealing her words as he pushed his legs through yesterday's pants and a shirt he didn't care that smelt a bit spoiled.

He drove her home and went back to the cabin, barely missing a head on collision with a beat up van. Once in the comfort of his bed again, it was easy to drift off, face down in his pillow completely nude. Daryl and Bailey had been late the next morning, still groggy and tired.

Daryl woke monday night at the sound of yipping. Loud, piercing and unyeilding. He groaned, burrying deeper into his pillow as the dog continued to cry out. The night before hadn't been this annoying. Then again... Bailey had gotten much more vocal then the critter. Plus Daryl hadn't been sleeping, too occupied by the nineteen year old bouncing on his lap hard and fast enough to shift the matress and pull up the sheets.

"Give it a rest!" He called out, turning on to his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"_Rawh! Rawh! Rawhl..._" the pup howled, now scratching at his bedroom door. He would've put the runt out for the night, but fall was making the nights bone rattling cold (which meant snow this year).

More and more, the dog continued to grate his nerves. With a growl, Daryl got up and yanked the door open.

The puppy shot straight to the bed, climbing ungracefully up into the comforter. Circling a few times before plopping down.

"Oh, hell no. Git!" Daryl snapped his fingers. He was ignored as the little thing started snoring. Daryl rubbed at his face and sighed. He crawled into bed, pulling up the blanket, making the dog get comfortable again.

As Daryl settled on his back, one arm beneath his head, the other on his bare stomach, he felt hot furr push against hip. He was too tired to care that it was an uncomfortable heat.

**-oOo-**

He dropped the burnt out roach into the empty beer bottle he used as an ashtray and placed the notebook back into rucksack under the cot. That dog had grown on him. He had named him Gunner after she had tried to make him see reason with the name Tuffy. His arguement was one over quickly when he had told her '_Ain't no damn dog in my house gonna be a pussy_.'

Daryl rubbed at his eyes as they itched and killed the lamp. He made it easy to fall asleep by focusing on his leg twitching from the high. But then... before he completely was lost to unconsinceness he remembered hearing Merle's voice in camp, catching only a few words... _Atlanta, volunteer, group_.

**-oOo-**

**I WANT REVIEWS PLEASE! I'm starting to question my writing ability... Plus its my BIRTHDAY, the big 2-1. LOL. love ya'll! audioRKO**


	4. Cut You Down

**Thanks for the reviews. Okay were you freaking out at the finale? I was screaming at the tv for Andrea to be left behind and eaten (sorry she's stupid, and not just because she shot Daryl, she's just whiney and annoying) and then shouting to Rick to just put a bullet in Lori's head or at least wait til the baby's born and just duct-tape her mouth (hate her too, she basically screws everything up). But woot woot the prison! Whatdya bet Merle makes an actual come back in season 3? And on talking dead, the memoriam was hysterical me and my bf laughed for almost a full hour.**

**Anyways... Here's ch. 4! Things start to pick up, some definate walker killing and violence. Also a warning, any religous types do not take offense toward the ending. It's not my belief at all, but has a great amount of signifgance. And the quote is from the german film Anti-bodies. It's a crazy serial thriller on Netflix! watch it, Reedus is in the beginning!**

_**God's Gonna Cut You Down- Johnny Cash**_

_You can run on for a long time_  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>

_Go tell that long tongue liar_  
><em>Go and tell that midnight rider<em>  
><em>Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down<em>

_Well my goodness gracious let me tell you the news_  
><em>My head's been wet with the midnight dew<em>  
><em>I've been down on bended knee talkin' to the man from Galilee<em>  
><em>He spoke to me in the voice so sweet<em>  
><em>I thought I heard the shuffle of the angel's feet<em>  
><em>He called my name and my heart stood still<em>  
><em>When he said, "John go do My will!"<em>

_Go tell that long tongue liar_  
><em>Go and tell that midnight rider<em>  
><em>Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down<em>

_You can run on for a long time_  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>

_Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand_  
><em>Workin' in the dark against your fellow man<em>  
><em>But as sure as God made black and white<em>  
><em>What's down in the dark will be brought to the light<em>

_You can run on for a long time_  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Run on for a long time<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>  
><em>Sooner or later God'll cut you down<em>

_Go tell that long tongue liar_  
><em>Go and tell that midnight rider<em>  
><em>Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down<em>  
><em>Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down<em>

**-oOo-**

It was staining everything. Her skin, clothes, even her hair. The brillant red thick and sticky. As much as she scrubbed, using the creek water and dirt to rub at the blood, it just wasn't washing off.

Bailey cried out, slamming her fists into the running stream, splashing the water all over. She wanted it off, _their_ blood was clinging to her, trying to keep remorse perminate. But it was a dying cause. Bailey didn't feel guilty, not for them, not for what they had tried to do.

She could still feel their hands, their tongues. It was a feeling that made her want to grate her skin right off in every place the two men had touched. But she couldn't do that. She had someone, something to cing to as a last ditch effort before she'd completely lose her head. Kirby.

After at least slowing the flow of bleeding from her mouth and bandaged the best she could with what was left of her sundress on her right shoulder blade, Bailey trudged back to the road to the behemoth Dodge Ram and stopped at the bodies of Gene and Lucas laying in the back.

_"Come on, sweetheart." Lucas grunted, his beefy hands skimming over her thighs to reach her panties. Bailey was screaming, crying out for him to stop. Gene, the smaller of the two, was holding her arms above her head, his face ducking down to run his tongue along her throat and anywhere else he could. Lucas and Gene had her pinned in the hard top covered bed of their truck atop a swath of blankets and a few sleeping bags. Bailey thrashed about, pleading in a hoarse, tiny voice._

Bailey pulled one of their gas can and sparingly poured it over the bodies she had drug off the highway. She took Lucas' shop rag from his shirt pocket and lit the end before tossing it on the two. The blaze was hot, making her face tingle and itch. But she didn't move, even with the horrifying smell of burning flesh, no Bailey watched the skin char and melt off bone. She found a sort of disturbed enjoyment of turning the bastards to ash.

_"No!" Bailey screeched, flailing her legs about, managing a kick to Lucas' neck. He jostled back and she tried for his face, landing a pretty solid heel to his chin. Gene's grip losened, one hand going for his hunting knife on his belt. She yelped, feeling a white-hot sting in her back. Bailey took the advantage of her freed limbs. Rolling over, she quickly took both hands and slammed them on each of Gene's ears with as much force she could muster. He dropped the blade and Bailey snatched it up just before Lucas grappled a fist full of her hair._

_"Git 'er!" Lucas growled. Bailey gasped as Gene's fist burried hard into her mouth. She groaned, vison doubling and blurring. When she was able to feel her face again, Bailey brought up the large knife and drove it straight behind her, catching Lucas right in the eye. The hand in her hair fell away and she yanked the blade free only to shoot it up under Gene's chin. He collasped on to her and she screamed at the corpse, pulling the knife free and taking in large gulps of air._

Finally, when the men were unrecognizable, Bailey climbed into their truck and headed back to her abandoned car. She transfered her supplies to the Dodge and started back in the right direction for the univerity. Bailey made several stops though. Gene and Lucas' handguns and bowie knife weren't enough.

**-oOo-**

The trip took almost a week for her to reach the campus. It looked decidedly eerie to Bailey with the sun down behind the property. She could make out the three seperate student housing buildings to the far left. Those things, the dead, were milling about the grassy front. Most were spaced out and just turning in circles. Easy targets.

Bailey reached for the axe she looted from a deserted clinic that morning and stuffed water, food and found first aid supplies into her shoulder bag before leaving the safety of the truck.

She found it easy to strike the blade of the axe into the heads of the living dead. Lift. Swing. Hit. Yank. There were only a dozen to take down and Bailey exicuted them with unbelievable precision that surprised herself.

Her memory recalled Kirby's dorm room being in the smallest of the buildings on the second floor. She made her way deftly through the halls without much hassle, only dispatching a handful. Bailey stopped at the right door, reading the half smudged writing on the white board there. Her name was drawn in a bright blue bubble letters along with her roomate's.

Bailey tried the handle, finding it locked. _Please be here... Please._ "Kirby?" she whispered. Silence.

"Kirby, it's Bailey," she said a bit louder, feeling slightly childish when she knocked on the door. Bailey listened, pressing her ear up to the wood and holding her breath.

Small, shuffling footsteps padded from inside and the soft click of the lock had Bailey heaving and trembling.

The door opened to just a crack, dark eyes peering into her's. Bailey stepped back as the door opened wider and she was pulled in with a jolt.

Kirby instantly began sobbing in her arms. So hard that Bailey had to support most of her weight and crushed her to her chest to quiet the noise. "Shh. I'm here." She closed and locked the door and brought her best friend to one of the beds, cradling her in her lap.

Bailey finally was able to calm the young redhead and began checking her over. Thankfully Kirby only had random bruises and scabs that didn't warrant care, Bailey breathed easy, finishing her assesment. Kirby sniffled, gripping the hem of Bailey's shirt with no intention of letting go. That was fine. She had found her. Alive and no worse for wear.

"Kirby, we can't stay here for long. It's too close to the city." Bailey was laying with her on the bed, running her fingers through her friend's greasy tangles of hair. They would stay here for the night and head somewhere tomorrow. That somewhere a mystery to Bailey. Maybe heading more west towards the countryside. Less people meant less dead.

"Ft. Benning," Kirby mumbled. "The radio was saying to head to either Atlanta or Ft. Benning before the stations went down. They're called safe zones. But I saw what happened to Atlanta from my window. Helicopters dropped bombs over it."

Bailey kissed her head and nodded. "Then we'll go to Ft. Benning. You'll be safe there."

They ate dinner, which consisted of peanuts, dried fruit and water, by flashlight. Both girls were quiet, hearing only distant moaning from the courtyard down below. But Bailey watched Kirby with a sharp eye.

The once stronghold that was her best friend had crumbled. She no longer held up her shoulders in that perfect posture, now she hunched as if sheilding herself. Make up that use to be ever present gone. Face drawn and gaunt. Bailey noticed the heavy stench of neglect, but didn't bring it up. She knew she probably didn't smell any better. Then there was the girl's silence. It was unnatural for Kirby to stay so quiet. The lack of her voice was very discomforting. Kirby Law was gone, dead, this ghost taking her place instead.

"I thought you'd be with Daryl."

Bailey shot her eyes to Kirby's face, her chest constricting, but didn't speak.

"Did something happen to him?"

She shrugged, not trusting her voice. The last thing she needed was to have some mental breakdown in front of an emotionally unstable girl.

"You don't know?" Kirby almost had a accusitory tone lacing into her timid words, an echo of her former self. Bailey couldn't let that just simmer away.

"No, he was gone when I made it to his place. Both him and Merle." She sighed, grateful for the eveness in her voice, torso ram rod straight.

"He just left you there? Alone? What the fuck!" Bailey wanted to smile at Kirby's venom. "Seriously. What a fucking prick!" She smacked her hand over her mouth, eyes wide at her loudness. They sat there frozen to listen for any noise.

Later after many questions and answers, Kirby was curled into Bailey's side, asleep and lightly snoring. ailey however was smoking a cigerette and had a notebook proped up on her stomach.

**-oOo-**

Bailey slid through her bedroom window, sniffing with a clogged nose and watery eyes. Her cheek smarted and felt puffy. She closed the pane quietly, still able to hear Ennis shouting threats at her. He was tweaking, coming off whatever flavor of the week he was on. He blamed her for not keeping her mother from beinging on his stash. She had barely made it into her room after he decided to smack her across the face and jostled her around.

She peddled hysterically down toward his cabin, trying to dry her eyes and calm down by the time she reached his front door, knocking urgently, making Gunner bark wildly. It took several long minutes before he answered in nothing but his boxers, hair sticking in all directions and creases lining one side of his face. Gunner panted, making circles around her feet.

"Thought'cha weren't comin'. 'S a 'lil late B- What the hell's that on yer face?" He pulled her in by the tops of her arms and slamming the door shut. Daryl's light eyes turning ice hard as he stared at the swelling red mark on her cheek.

"Nothing-" He brought her closer, inspecting.

"Bullshit. That sorry sumbitch hit ya'." It wasn't a question, he wasn't a fool.

"Can I s-stay here? Just for tonight. Um, he's mad at me..." Bailey hated how small and fragile she must've sounded and probably looked.

Daryl let go of her arms and began pacing, curses growling beneath his breath. She watched chewing on her bottom lip as he scrubbed at his face. "Git on ta' bed. Be there in a bit." Bailey blinked a few times. "Git. I swear I'll be there in a bit." He sounded gruff and made his demand harsher by smacking her ass, fire in his expression.

Bailey did as she was told and disappeared into his bedroom. She shed all but her shirt and panties and crawled on to the matress.

He was gone for longer than a bit. She had heard him storm around, watched him come in the room for pants, a shirt and his denim jacket and flinched when he slammed the front door hard. Bailey waited over an hour, petting a snoring puppy in her lap and peeking out the window.

When he came back, smelling strongly of cheap whisky and holding a shop rag over one eye, Bailey shot to his side. He waved her off with a "'S nothin'".

The next day at Mr. Foster's Ennis didn't show, nor the next day or the rest of the week. ailey's sleep over at Daryl's cabin turned into a small vacation. He had brought her a bag of clothes her first night over and told her to stay for a while.

When she was finally released, giving him the excuse that she had responsibilities at home and was worried about her mother, Bailey looked at Ennis who was sprawled in the recliner, his entire face swollen grotesquely. She couldn't help the half smile as she went to her bedroom, hearing Ennis call her a good for nothing skank.

**-oOo-**

Kirby munched on a bag of trail mix in the passenger seat when Bailey put the truck in park out front of a gas station. They had been on the road for days and gas had depleted quickly. She warned Kirby to stay in the cab when she gripped the axe and went in search for any danger. Thankfully the area was void of anything living or dead. But coming around the left corner, Bailey stopped, seeing the bright red letters that were sprayed across the white painted bricks. The words cut through her like a hacksaw.

Bailey hurried back to the truck after pumping gas into the half-dozen cans, face pale and fingers rigid around the steering wheel. Kirby eyed her, not saying a word as they drove on.

The entire day Bailey couldn't stop reading it in her head. Like some twisted mantra set on a loop. She found herself agreeing with it, whole-heartedly. It had to be true. No law, no justice or structure of any kind was left. That had crumbled just days after hell came to earth. Everyone that had supposed to have been her protector was gone. Her father, Bess, her mother, Daryl... God. She was abandoned, with only her best friend, who was utterly broken, as company. Now she was the protector. She had to be now. Kirby couldn't last out there on her own, Bailey knew that. There was no room for weakness in this new world. She let the spray painted verse play out once more in her head as the final nail in the coffin of her old ways. Bailey Rae Ford was dead and burried.

"If there is no God... Everything is allowed."

**-oOo-**

**Long chapter for me lol. love me i wrote this with a hangover lol. Please review!**


	5. Wayfaring Stranger

**Made it to chapter 5 woohoo! Another Daryl POV. Man was the ending to ch 4 a downer. But this chapter went through a major rewrite I was not happy with it, sorta a filler chapter cause its short and mostly flashbacks.**

**On with the show (disclaimer in chapter2)**

**-oOo-**

_**Wayfaring Stranger- Jack White (cover)**_

_I am a poor wayfaring stranger  
>Traveling through this world alone<br>There is no sickness, toil nor danger  
>In that fair land to which I go<em>

_I'm going home_  
><em>To see my mother<em>  
><em>I'm going home<em>  
><em>No more to roam<em>  
><em>I am just going over Jordan<em>  
><em>I am just going over home<em>

_I know dark clouds will hover o'er me_  
><em>I know my pathway is rough and steep<em>  
><em>But golden fields lie out before me<em>  
><em>Where weary eyes no more will weep<em>  
><em>I'm going home to see my father<em>  
><em>I'm going home no more to roam<em>  
><em>I am just going over Jordan<em>  
><em>I am just going over home<em>

_I'll soon be free from every trial_  
><em>This form shall rest beneath the sod<em>  
><em>I'll drop the cross of self-denial<em>  
><em>And enter in that home with God<em>  
><em>I'm going home to see my savior<em>  
><em>Who spilled his precious blood for me<em>  
><em>I am just going over Jordan<em>  
><em>I am just going over home<em>

**-oOo-**

_Daryl hid in the hall closet, cringing every time he heard his father call out to him. "I know yer around here, boy! Best mind me, git yer good fer nothin' ass out here!"_

_The young thirteen year old held the door knob tightly, trying not to shake and give away his hiding spot. Beau Dixon was drunk and enraged, two things that were never good for Daryl. His father always found some way to blame the boy for Beau's troubles. This time _was_ Daryl's fault. Earlier that day, the lanky, skinny teen had snatched a few of his old man's Lucky Strikes. Enough to notice too. He smoked them out in the woods and came back to the cabin smelling like an ashtray. _

_Beau made his way down the short hallway, pounding his beefy fists on the wood paneling. "I swear ya' little shit! I swear! If yer scrawny ass don't git out here, I'll do more than tan that hide!"_

_Daryl clamped his mouth to keep from whimpering, his hot tears threatening to turn into sobs. _

_The noise ceased and Daryl held his breath. Suddenly the closet door was ripped open, Daryl still holding the handle, was flung right on top of Beau's boots, face skidding hard against the floor. He was easily picked up by the collar of his shirt, being small for his age (not haven't yet hit a decient growth spurt). His screams were awkward and high pitched, since puberty hadn't come around. Something both his Pop and Merle teased him for._

_Beau jostled the boy around and chucked him towards the living room. Daryl tumbled into the coffee table and cried hoarsely as a few well aimed kicks landed into his ribs. Pain struck Daryl hard all throughout his torso, knoking the oxygen from his lungs._

_Then he heard the clinking of Beau's belt being pulled from his jeans. Fire ripped over Daryl's back, slicing through his shirt, felt the leather bite into his bare legs. He yelped and pleaded the older man to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as his father hollered out insults._

_Soon Beau grew bored with the whipping and decided to use his hands instead. Daryl wasn't expecting the blow to his face, making him lose all vision in his left eye, or the next that had him go completely numb in the mouth and couldn't move it to cry out any words. He only managed to sob and sceam as Beau continued his tirade of abuse. _

_Suddenly Daryl was yanked up by his chin, feeling his jaw bone chrunching into pieces as his Pop gripped it even harder. He spit into his son's face as he spoke. "Teach ya' to steal from me, ya' worthless sissy. I'mma mark ya' up. So's everyone can know yer a theif." The young boy's eyes went wide once released as Beau grabbed the iron, that was never used, from the fold out table and sat it over the stove top, turning the burner on high._

_Daryl tried to turn over to crawl from the living room, heading for the front door. He didn't get very far and was drug back, flipped over to come just an inch away from the glowing orange metal. Beau kneeled atop of him and let the iron hover over Daryl's frightened face. His son was sobbing loudly, begging the older man not to brand him._

_Just as he felt the intense heat, the cabin was lit up from the outside with flashing Blue and Red lights. Beau reared back, tossing the iron across the floor to peer through the closest window. He cursed loudly and stomped back over to the teen, murder clear on his mind. "Ya called the law on me? Yer own Daddy? Ya 'lil bastard!" _

_Beau wrapped his hands tightly around Daryl's throat, intending to strangle him, when the front door was kicked in. Daryl was pulled from the death grip, mind fuzzy and confused. He was hurried from the house surounded by shouts and sirens before darkness dragged him into fitful unconisness. _

_Whirring machines and a rythymatic beeping made his head surface from the dream he'd been in. Daryl slowly blinked, squinting at the harsh yellow light in the hospital room. He coughed and sputtered on the plastic tube that went down his throat, feeling it rack dryly against tender tissue. In seconds he was crowded by nurses and proded. Daryl thrashed about, ignoring the emense pain that seemed to cover his entire body. Two male floor techs held him down for the nurse to pull the tube from his mouth and he sobbed, the plastic grating on his throat._

_He was stuck with a needle in his rump, instantly making him go slack and hazy. The nurse scribbled on a clipboard and fiddled with his IV. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep on the Demeral they gave him._

_The second time he awoke he was forced to answer questions from two cops. Both asking if this was a regular occurance to be beaten by his father. Daryl had snorted and gave a sarcastic 'what do ya' think?' then asked for a cigerette._

_Later that day the doctor came in, telling the extent of his injuries. Seven broken ribs, crushed esophagus, shattered jaw and some internal hemoraging in his lungs. They had operated on his chest to stictch up the bleeding inside and had but screws in his jaw. Told him his throat with heal with time, but his speech would be a bit rough. _'At least I won't have Merle picking on my squealy voice any more'_, he thought._

_He spent four months in Atlanta General until Merle was released and came to get him. Daryl left with a scar on his chest, metal in his mouth (minus a few molars) and plenty of pain meds which Merle pinched quite a bit of. He went back to the cabin, his older brother staying only long enough to stock the kitchen and pull in enough cash for Daryl to pay the bills before splitting out of town in his father's glossy black 1967 Nickey Camaro._

_Daryl, who had missed too much school decided to just drop out, started going out in the woods for days long, sometimes getting lost or playing games by himself with an old wooden hunting blind on rickety stilts. He would venture out to his uncle's camper and played Bullshit until old Jebb passed out in his chair from too much whisky. Daryl got his newly formed nicotine fix from his uncle who was so batty from Nam he never kept count._

_When Merle came back the following summer he showed up on a SS Chopper that grumbled loudly to check in on his runt of a brother. _

**-oOo-**

He glanced down at the gas meter and saw the needle wavering over E. He'd been running on fumes for the past hour, mind in the distant past. His ears were still ringing from the bang of the grenade and explosion of the building.

It didn't take long until his Ford began chocking under the hood and the engine dying. The caravan came to a hault when he exited the cab and moved to the truck bed. Daryl flung the tarp off his brother's motorcycle and began unloading his belongings and lowered the bike. He put his tent and things in the back of the RV, straped his Horton to the bike's saddle bags and took the lead at the front of the assembly line.

Before returning to the highway, Daryl had dug up the leather vest at the bottom of his rucksack and slung it over his shoulders after fingering the wings that were hand-stitched into the back.

The farther they traveled, the more he noticed that the heat wasn't as harsh. And the wind he kicked up on the bike felt nice, since he could still feel the heat from the flames back at the CDC. Plus the loud rumble silenced the noise in his ears.

When the RV gave two blares of the horn, they pulled off on a truck stop exit to camp for the night. Daryl, being without a sheltering vehicle had to sleep on the Winnebago's hard floor, using his bag as a pillow.

He waited for everyone to fall asleep in the camper before pulling her notebook out and skimming through the pages...

**-oOo-**

He snorted at the crooked, blue frosted letters on the doulbe layered chocolate cake Bailey had made. She only put in one candle, teasing him that if she put the other 35, they'd burn the house down. That earned a 'shut up' from him.

They ate and watched reruns of America's Funniest Home Videos, until Bailey hopped up and pulled a shiney blue wrapped box. Daryl shook the slim, long retangular gift before tearing into it. He eyed her biting her lip anxiously, expression nervous. It made his lips twitch.

Inside was a neatly folded leather vest. Brand new since it smelled strongly and was pressed, stiff. He knew this wasn't from the thrift shop in town. No, the leather between his fingers was unworn... expensive. He turned it over to see ruffles of white.

"I added them, it seemed too bland, all black, so I stitched them in. I hope that's okay? It was the only thing I could think of," Bailey blurted out, cheeks turning red.

Daryl smirked, tracing the individual strips of fabric. Angel wings. She had stitched each "feather" one by one. It was an imaculant design, looking like real wings with the ends hanging off and slightly frayed from scissors.

He didn't think she had chose angel wings for the irony. Not his girl. She was too sweet. He guessed she thought it'd look stylish without being too girly. And she had been right. Daryl liked the vest. And the wings made it look personable and all his own.

Bailey was chewing on her lip and waiting for a response when he unexpectedly drug her on to his lap and crushed his mouth to hers, making her giggle.

"Woowie!" Both Daryl and Bailey shot apart at Merle's return, not having paid attention to the motorcycle due to their heated make out on the living room floor. Daryl groan dropping his head back, eyes closing. He had hoped his brother would stay out at least half the night a the J and I so he could have Bailey all alone in the cabin.

Bailey, being polite greeted Merle with a shy smile. "Hey, Merle. There's some cake in the stove if you want some." Daryl frowned, she was giving away _his_ birthday cake?

Merle licked his lips and rubbed at his thick belly, humming. Daryl didn't miss the way Merle eyeballed Bailey's skirt that was scrunched up to the tops of her thighs. He cleared his throat, gaining her attention and threw his head in the direction of his room. Bailey followed his direction and shut the door. Daryl raised himself from the floor as Merle whistled lowly.

"Damn if she don't make sugar tase just like salt."

"Shut it, Merle." He warned, pulling a beer from the fridge and taking a long chug.

His brother just chuckled. "Ya' gotta be the luckiest sumbitch in Georgia. Cooks for ya'. Spoils ya' with presents... Not ta' mention ya' let 'er pork 'er."

Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore him.

"She let ya' war her dresses too?" Merle barked out a laugh and got himself a beer then went straight to the couch, turning the tv to the history channel, some war documentary on. Daryl scooped up the vest and wrappings and went straight to his room when Merle started singing a honky country song, off key.

Bailey was sitting on the bed, legs folded under her and fiddling with her fingers. Her face gave away that she had heard the onesided conversation with the flush that started from her chest up into her hairline.

Daryl left the gift by his crossbow and sat next to her, lighting a cigerette and scooting up against the wall.

"I like the vest, it's bitchin'." That made her smile proudly and moved to mirror his position.

"You're welcome," she said, knowing it was his way of a thank you and kissed his cheek lightly.

**-oOo-**

Daryl searched through a couple of the vehicles left on the highway away from the others. He wasn't finding much of anything useful, a few packets of snacks and some bottled water, not enough for more than three people. A suitcase with a few shirts that might fit him for the colder seasons and an un opened pack of cheap razors for shaving.

He turned to bring his findings to the saddle bags on his bike when he saw the first few walkers shambling through the traffic of cars. Daryl ducked behind the nearest truck, dumping the supplies quietly and picking up the screwdriver laying on the pavement.

He peeked through the windows of the truck's cab to see T-Dog slip against a car door and spluttering blood from his forearm. Daryl dashed over to the man, driving the screwdriver into the top of one geeks head. He dragged T in between the car and another and hefted the walker's corpse atop him, bringing his finger to his lips to shush him.

Daryl found a man's long dead body and did the same himself, keeping still as he watched the mass of undead pass through. It seemed like too long of laying there motionless to make him antsy and bored. After waiting until he was sure the crowd had limped far enough to move he pushed the body off and stood, looking for any sign of the others.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched scream and Daryl caught sight of Sophia sprinting into the treeline, two walkers on her heels and Rick racing after. He almost bolted forward, but heard T-Dog grunt and gasp. Daryl helped the man up and jogged him to the RV for Dale to look at.

Then he was scanning the woods, trying to see where their tracks started, but Rick came stumbling out, winded and covered in geek blood.

Carol darted to him, spitting out questions and sobbing. Apparently he had told Sophia to come back to the highway while he led the two walkers away. She must of gotten lost and wandered off course.

Rick asked Daryl along with Shane and Glenn to try and track her down.

With his face fixed in a hard, rigid expression, he took lead into the forest. He _wouldn't _lose this one.

**-oOo-**

**A little inside Daryl's past and I gave that mysterious huge scar on his chest an expanation. Now watch in season three its completely off lol thats just my luck! anyways review! I think I like Daryl's POV more lol Always liked guys perspective for some reason.**


	6. Thought that I Heard You Try

**Chapter 6, damn this is my first story ever to be this interesting to myself. Usually I get bored after so much writing, but I've got two notebooks worth of notes for this lol. Hope ya'll are okay with me skipping around. Meaning the time difference between Bailey chapters and Daryl ones. He's catching up to the season two finale while she's kinda hanging back at the beginning, but she'll get there. I'll confess the reunion is close! Just another chapter or two... or twenty? JK JK its soon, I promise. **

**And an advanced apology, I'm the writer that has to have complete concentration, if not my writing isn't the best. This was not my best work and my least fav. chapter. Girl drama... Something I haven't dabbled with in real life so please go easy.**

**-oOo-**

_**Losing My Religion- R.E.M.**_

_Oh life, it's bigger  
>It's bigger than you<br>And you are not me  
>The lengths that I will go to<br>The distance in your eyes  
>Oh no, I've said too much<br>I set it up_

_That's me in the corner_  
><em>That's me in the spotlight<em>  
><em>Losing my religion<em>  
><em>Trying to keep a view<em>  
><em>And I don't know if I can do it<em>  
><em>Oh no, I've said too much<em>  
><em>I haven't said enough<em>

_I thought that I heard you laughing_  
><em>I thought that I heard you sing<em>  
><em>I think I thought I saw you try<em>

_Every whisper_  
><em>Of every waking hour<em>  
><em>I'm choosing my confessions<em>  
><em>Trying to keep an eye on you<em>  
><em>Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool, fool<em>  
><em>Oh no, I've said too much<em>  
><em>I set it up<em>

_Consider this_  
><em>Consider this, the hint of the century<em>  
><em>Consider this, the slip<em>  
><em>That brought me to my knees, failed<em>  
><em>What if all these fantasies come<em>  
><em>Flailing aground<em>  
><em>Now I've said too much<em>

_I thought that I heard you laughing_  
><em>I thought that I heard you sing<em>  
><em>I think I thought I saw you try<em>

_But that was just a dream_  
><em>That was just a dream<em>

_That's me in the corner_  
><em>That's me in the spotlight<em>  
><em>Losing my religion<em>  
><em>Trying to keep a view<em>  
><em>And I don't know if I can do it<em>  
><em>Oh no, I've said too much<em>  
><em>I haven't said enough<em>

_I thought that I heard you laughing_  
><em>I thought that I heard you sing<em>  
><em>I think I thought I saw you try<em>

_But that was just a dream_  
><em>Try, cry, why try<em>  
><em>That was just a dream<em>  
><em>Just a dream<em>  
><em>Just a dream, dream<em>

**-oOo-**

Kirby refused to look at her as they ate the cans of fruit cocktail and spam over the battery powered burner. Both girl hadn't spoken since the run in with the stranger. Bailey had just stopped the truck after a man was waving them down. He was standing next to his small pinto that was smoking from the hood. Bailey wordlessly stepped out, the Berretta cold in her hand and came to stand right in front of him. He spoke desperately, but she wasn't listening. Bailey raised the gun, watching his eyes grow wide and squeezed her index finger against the trigger. Then riffled through his car to find some water, a swiss army knife and a handful of Slim Jims.

Bailey let Kirby give her the cold shoulder. She didn't know the risks of others. Bailey couldn't make that mistake again, couldn't tell Kirby what had happened. Even when she had asked about the shiney pink scars that marked her lip and back.

The two had happened upon the Outdoor Outlet and Bailey deemed it usueful as both a place of shelter and a chance to stock up on other supplies such as winter gear and more weapons.

She told her they would stay for a few weeks, maybe more. Bailey needed to learn to handle a gun at a distant target. And the variety of air soft weapons seemed perfect for practice.

After so many weeks of shooting and hitting her mark, Bailey approached Kirby.

"No."

"What? Kirby, this isn't a choice. You have to learn to defend yourself."

Kirby pushed the pellet gun away and shook her head. Bailey sighed, closing her eyes and threw the plastic gun. "Fine, whatever. When you get caught up by those things don't blame me 'cause you're without protection."

And the silent treatment continued.

Bailey constantly read her journals while her best friend slept. She was running low on entries, groaning when she realized not all were with her. One was missing the most recent of notebooks.

**-oOo-**

She coughed on her chocolate milk at her question. "What?" Bailey two girl's were in Kirby's room, just days before she would be leaving to college.

"Oh come on, quit acting so naive, that's long since gone. Give me the goods. He uses magnums, as we both know, but what's the manscaping layout? Bare, trimmed or full jungle fevor?" Kirby asked, stuffing more oreos with peanut butter in her mouth.

Bailey blushed heavily and shook her head.

"Ugh, you are the worst about this! Please?" She pleaded.

Bailey shifted on the four poster bed and rolled her eyes, keeping a tight lip.

Kirby sighed in defeat then continued to the next mortifying question. "Any kinks?" Bailey drew in her eyebrows, head tilting to the side. "For the sexually challenged, it means things a person likes sexually that is considered strange or weird. Kinky." When Bailey's head leaned more the redhead groaned. "Okay, example. Say a guy likes to act like his girlfriend is a nurse and he's her patient, that's role play."

Bailey giggled. "Nothing like that."

"Hmm." Kirby tapped a finger to her chin as in deep thought. "What about liking a certain part of your body other than the most obvious?" She shook her head.

"Please tell me he's not some full on vanilla," she deadpanned. After seeing Bailey's confusion she let out a low breath. "Boring old school missionary sex. Man on top, woman on bottom?"

"Oh! No, we do more than that." Kirby wiped her forehead.

"Phew. Good. Maybe this will be easier, what's you favorite part?"

Bailey blinked. "All of it?"

Kirby spewed fits of laughter and rolled on the bed. "Okay, okay," she said gulping in air and wiping her eyes. "Alright, have you both gone down on each other, oral sex?"

She bit her lip, eyes darting away and face turning a dark crimson. "Oh my GAWD! Bailey Rae's a sluuuuut!" Bailey grapped the nearest pillow and launched it into Kirby's face. Both girls giggling wildly.

The next morning Kirby dropped her friend off at Daryl's cabin. He was out front with half his body down into the hood of his pickup. Bailey dashed into the front door, to drop her bag in his room and went to the fridge for an RC and glanced out the kitchen window.

Kirby tapped on the skin peeking out between his pants and wife beater. He jumped, clanging his head on the hood and cursing loudly. When he turned to her, not being the girl he expected, his expression became one of annoyance.

"Wha' ya' want?" he said gruffly.

Kirby smiled, hands clasped behind her back and rocked on her heels. "Just offically meeting Bailey's fuck buddy. Kirby Law." She held out a hand and grinned wider.

Daryl scrunched up his nose and took it, slightly smirking at her look of horror when his black, oil covered hand made her palm the same way.

Bailey snickered.

"Daryl Dixon."

"Right. So anyways, when you gonna take her out? In public?" she asked curtly, never one to beat around the bush. Daryl blanched, face going blank.

"Or you know, go all redneck lumberjack romance novel on the poor girl?"

He rubbed his hands over his face roughly and groaned. "Git off my property, 'fore I pour oil over you."

His threat meant nothing, Kirby knew to call his bluff. "Yeah. Anyways, look me and her talked. Spice things up and treat her like a lady every now and then." He started to protest but she held up her dirty hand. "I'm not telling you to marry her or whatever. Just remind her once in a while that she's not a skank."

It was Bailey's turn to groan as Kirby smiled, waved at the cabin as if she knew her friend had been watching and skipped to her bug.

Bailey waited a few moments before going outside, she decided not to say a word about Kirby's "advice". Instead she reached up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. She smiled, surpressing a laugh. "You've got oil all over you're face."

**-oOo-**

Kirby sighed and turned to look at Bailey who was driving. "I'm sorry," Bailey blurted, but her voice sounded clipped, a bit hollow. Kirby nodded and rested her hand on her friend's in the middle on the bench seat.

They stayed that way for a while, coming up to a slight bump in their journey. Where the highway began to curve, a long stream of vehicles blocked the way through for at least a quarter mile. "Great." Bailey dropped in her seat and hit her forehead on the steering wheel.

"We'll have to move the cars," Kirby stated.

"Least someone had already started," Bailey added.

Both girls started manuvering vehicles off enough to to the side for passage. When they got to a cream colored station wagon, Kirby gained her attention, pointing at the windshield. "Wander if Sophia was found," she mumbled and opened the door to steer while Bailey pushed.

**-oOo-**

**DUN DUN DUN! lol again sorry if this chapter was blah and rushed, it was hard to write with my sister, mother and grandmother interrupting me. Next one will be infinately better I swear.**

**As always REVIEW I see how many hits this story has, so as a song goes "our some sugar on meh!"**


	7. Right from My Hand

**Woohoo made it to number 7! Thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome! Another Daryl chapter, and I like this one too. Shows more of his past, shows that he really isn't bad, just rough lol. **

**I'm gonna try to get up 8 and 9 too right after, got notes up to the season 2 finale then probably go off on my own until the 3 picks up in october.**

**-oOo-**

_**Blue on Black- Kenny Wayne Shepard **_

_Night, falls, and I'm alone  
>Skin, yeah, chilled me to the bone<br>You, turned and you ran,  
>Oh yeah<br>Oh slipped, right from my hand_

_Hey_  
><em>Blue on black<em>  
><em>Tears on a river<em>  
><em>Push on a shove<em>  
><em>It don't mean much<em>  
><em>Joker on jack<em>  
><em>Match on a fire<em>  
><em>Cold on ice<em>  
><em>A dead man's touch<em>  
><em>Whisper on a scream<em>  
><em>Doesn't change a thing<em>  
><em>Don't bring you back<em>  
><em>Blue on black<em>  
><em>Oh yeah, blue on black<em>

_Blind, oh, now i see_  
><em>Truth, lies, and in between<em>  
><em>Wrong, cant be undone<em>  
><em>Oh slipped, from the tip of<em>  
><em>Your tongue<em>

_Hey_  
><em>Blue on black<em>  
><em>Tears on a river<em>  
><em>Push on a shove<em>  
><em>It don't mean much<em>  
><em>Joker on jack<em>  
><em>Match on a fire<em>  
><em>Cold on ice<em>  
><em>A dead mans touch<em>  
><em>Whisper on a scream<em>  
><em>Doesn't change a thing<em>  
><em>Doesn't bring you back, yeah<em>  
><em>Blue on black<em>  
><em>Oh, blue on black<em>  
><em>Oh, yeah<em>

**-oOo-**

Daryl grumbled, running the sharp edge of his knife over the twig, making more arrows, to keep his hands busy since he had a growing urge to scratch the scab right below his ribs. He was in a mood, having been beratted by both Carol and Lori. He hated the jabbing guilt towards the former, having yelled at her and disrespected Sophia's memory. Carol had told him he was all she had left now. Then Lori trapsing down from the house and wanting him to go after Rick. Spouting out how selfish he was. Stupid bitch, how's taking a two tumbles down a cliffside, a bullet to the head _and_ his own damn arrow, just to look for a girl he never spoke to before selfish?

He took the new arrow, inspecting it carefully and placing it with the others. Then started again.

**-oOo-**

_Daryl hauled a trashed and bloody Merle on to the couch and made sure the dumbass was still breathing. Then kicked his dangled leg in anger. The bastard had been pummled into a pulp by Hank Ford, Lover of one Lorane Hillcrest. _

_Merle apparently thought he had a snowball's chance in hell with sweet talking the leggy blonde, right in front of her tank of a build, six foot eight hulking beau. Hank Ford wasn't a heartless man, hell, Daryl held some respect for him. He was known in town from his high school days. A football star and his family wasn't broke like most the sorry people in Little Haven._

_But every human being had faults. Hank's was possesiveness to his old lady. Any male that showed any attention to Lorane was subject to an ass-kicking to the tank-build body that towered at six foot seven and a right hook that could knock you clean out._

_Merle had to be dragged from the bar by his little sixteen year old brother, still throwing his fists wildly and managing to land a few hits to Daryl's face. It was hard enough to get Merle, who was a few pounds over husky, anywhere when he couldn't walk. Daryl, still scrawny and narrow had difficulty hefting him into the truck and up the patio to the cabin. _

_Once his older brother was snoring loudly, he grabbed the white paper bag from the coffee table and trecked the small path into the woods, finding the old camper easily, following the clear line from years of trekking through. He rapped his knuckles on the door waiting._

_"Uncle Jebb, 's Daryl! Got yer meds!" His uncle gruggled a 'come in', and Daryl entered, setting the bag down and grabbing one of Jebb's Marlboros and lighting it._

_Jebb sat in his wheelchair, cigerette dangling from his yellow tinted lips and listening to his radio. He was well into his sixties, Daryl never knew his age for sure, and had ratty salt and pepper hair. His denim eyes bleary and most of the time blank, face heavily crinkled and looked leathery from too much sun. He wore a white stained tee shirt from the salvation army store a few miles out and his military fatiges. Except at the pantlegs weren't legs or feet. Instead the bottoms were twisted and knotted at the stumps of the man's knees. Nam had made him not only a double amputee, but also a paranoid schitzophrenic and now he had the beginnings of alzhimers. _

_Daryl went to the electric single burner, setting a pot with water over it to boil and sat in the fold out chair in the corner. _

_Jebb looked over to see the fresh blood draining from his nephew's nose and grunted. "Ya' Daddy beatin' on ya' again?"_

_Daryl sighed, taking a deep drag of his cigerette and wiped the sticky mess with the back of his free hand. "Ya' know that bastard's in lock up, nagh. Merle's work. Had ta' pick 'em up from J and I, got his ass handed to him by Hank Ford though."_

_His uncle nodded, eyes drooping a bit. "How's ya' Momma?"_

_He scratched the back of his neck, hating everytime Jebb asked this question. Daryl had long ago changed his answer to she's dead to fabricating a whole life for his mother. Saying she was always at home, cooking or whatever else the American Dream house mother did. "She's great, Uncle Jebb."_

_"Renny's a good girl. Perdy and smart. She raised ya' right, boy. Not like Beau's last'n. Ugly thing. Glad she took off after Merle was born."_

_Daryl snorted a short laugh, smoke coming from his nose, a few flecks of blood sprinkling the dirty tiled floor. When the water started bubbling loudly, he grabbed the pack of Ramen Noodles and stood over it to stir the meal. _

_It was what he did since Jebb couldn't get around much. He cooked him supper, brought his pain meds and let the crazy cooke ramble on about nothing. Jebb was considered his only functioning relationship in the Dixon line. Just his luck it had to be the town's white trash Boo Radley. Kids came by every Halloween and flicked small rocks at the camper and scare their friends with ridiculous tales of old Jebb Dixon being a backwoods murderer. Daryl had figured this out young, catching the little dumbasses in the act. At only fourteen, he took Jebbs six shooter and waved it around, hollering like a bat out a hell. It didn't stop the ritual but Daryl found amusement when their parents were gossiping about their kids exaggeration that Jebb was firing rounds out in the woods._

_Once his uncle was fed and started dozing from the vicoden, Daryl would cover him with his quilt and head back to the cabin._

**-oOo-**

Daryl scrubbed at his face after Carol's second visit, asking where dipshit Lori was. He was feeling even worse now. he'd asked him about not informing anyone that she had probably gone alone after her husband. Were all women this damn frustrating? _No_, his mind answered. _She _wouldn't have caused the few grey hairs that spouted out of his goatee that everyone else had managed to do. A sliver strand for each and every one of them.

He poked at his campfire some more, stoking it mercilessly. Eyes glued to the red and orange flames licking over the tree branch he used and let his mind numb over. Random conversations he'd had with his long since dead Uncle. His only confidaunt. The only man he trusted. And the only thing that Jebb had ever kept a sharp memory of that Daryl told him was her. He remembered every word he said about the cute little blonde that was Hank's daughter. He would ask every night that Daryl showed up how she was, and as always harassed his nephew. Telling him he was a damned fool not marrying the girl. And Daryl would quickly tell him. "Uncle Jebb, she's just a friend." The old man would cuff him on the back of the head and call him a 'tard.

Ouy of nowhere came a thought, the feeling of regret tinging it. _I should have brought her to meet 'em. She would have loved that crazy sumbitch._ Daryl quit his firepit abuse and blinked up at the darkness on the farmland. Where the hell had that come from? It wasn't something that ever crossed his mind before. She had never known he even _had_ an uncle. Never really told her any extent of his family except Merle and his no good Pop serving a life sentence. Yet she shared everything. Her father and older half-sister (one thing we had in common was the sharing of half-siblings), her life in Savannah, the accident, her useless mother and Kirby. All her life poured out to him and not once did he give anything back but a small one sentenced answer.

If he was going to spiral down this road, he'd need some bud. Daryl left the fire alone and zipped himself in his tent, oil lamp dim and joint already rolled, the notebook open in his lap.

**-oOo-**

Bailey was looking from the windshield to him as he drove his Ford farther down the highway, Little Haven long out of sight by now. He'd coaxed her into coming by earlier after work (meaning she'd have to skip being home maker at her own house), planning to make good on Kirby's suggestion to take her out in public. A date. Daryl thought going out for food as a date was a bit strange. Especially when you already know a girl from the inside out. They could do all this dinner and conversation at the cabin. At least there he didn't have to be fully dressed.

But when that little brown-nosing redhead said the bit about treating her like a lady and not some skank had made the decision for him that taking her to the city was worth his discomfort.

Bailey raised a blonde brow. The front of the resturant was lit up with garden lights and had flowers and ivy growing all around. In the center was a large marble fountain and benches on each side. Soft cello music was playing through speakers as Bailey followed him through the small maze of plantlife.

Daryl cleared his throat, nervous, as he played with the collar of his best flannel. She glanced up at him with a warm smile, eyes twinkling. He liked what she had showed up in, glad she passed over her shorts and overalls. No she wore a sheer peach dress over a beige slip and these Indian moccasin boots, fringe dangling on the outsides. Her long blonde hair half up with another ribbon.

He nodded at the hostess when she asked if it was a table for two and led them to a booth in the corner. She was a young girl, around Bailey's age and placed their menus in front of them. "What can I get you two to drink?" she asked with a rehearsed smile and overly bubbly voice.

He ordered a Budweiser and she asked for a sweet tea.

When th girl disappeared both opened the menus and Daryl squinted at the fancy script words. He scrated the to of his head and shifted in his seat. What kind of food were they serving to people? There were long titles in all kinds of languages that he had no idea what they ment.

Daryl peeked over at Bailey to see her biting her lip and scanning her own menu. She didn't seem confused in the least at the lists of poultry, beef and seafood. When she laid down her menu, closing it and looking satified with choosing a meal he went back to trying decipher his own.

Their drinks were set down by a well groomed man. And when he spoke, Daryl coughed uncomfortably. "Are you two ready to order?"

He was a damn flaming fairy. "I'm Reese, by the way and I'll be taking care of you this evening."

Bailey smiled up politely and went to give him her order when Daryl shook his head, menus still open on the first page. "Alright Hon, I'll give you a few minutes." When the man left the booth Daryl groaned.

"What?" she asked, grin still tugging at her lips. He darted his eyes to the direction of their waiter. Bailey giggled.

"We get stuck with the one fa-" He was cut off from her hand covering his mouth, muffling the rest of the word.

"Oh, please. It's not like gay is contagious. He's nice, so you can be too." He rolled his eyes and batted her hand away.

"Whatever." She laughed and shook her head.

Soon Reese returned and Bailey gave him her order, asking for the lausagna dinner, Daryl just grumbled out a "same" and cringed a bit when the princess touched his hand when taking his menu. This was entertaining for Bailey and Daryl shot her a half-hearted glare.

It took a while for their food to be brought to their table, a new bottle for Daryl without asking along with it. "You need anything else, just ask." He patted his shoulder, making Daryl freeze and scrunch up his nose then wandered over to another table.

He couldn't get to the truck fast enough, Bailey giggling on and off at his expense when Reese had touched him, smiled at him and even gave him a fucking wink.

Once back on the dark highway he'd have enough of her teasing and gruffed out a "shut up" and pulled her to him, the expression on his face telling her exactly what her mouth should be doing instead.

**-oOo-**

**These seem a lot longer while writing them lol. I know they're a bit on the short side, but since this is a drawn out story, they'd be boring if they were long chapters. I hate not cutting to the chase, much like Daryl and find it blah to read over 3,000 words about what a stick looks like you know?**

**Anyhow review and tell me what you think, I liked this chapter, thought it mostly was about nothing. lol**


	8. When it's Loaded

**So, here's another chapter, one I'm a bit excited for, hehe. Hope you enjoy. I'll be honest pressure is high, my sister was threatening me for more lol. So I'm trying to hurry this along. But I admit, brainstorming this story has me real excited, a lot of changes were made. I'm trying hard not to make my story sound like others, I know I can't stop every obsticale from being repeated, but trying my damnedest lol. **

**Enjoy :)**

**-oOo-**

_**9 Crimes- Damian Rice**_

_Leave me out with the waste  
>This is not what I do<br>It's the wrong kind of place  
>To be thinking of you<br>It's the wrong time  
>For somebody new<br>It's a small crime  
>And I've got no excuse<em>

_Is that alright?_  
><em>Give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>If u don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>Give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright<em>  
><em>With you?<em>

_Leave me out with the waste_  
><em>This is not what I do<em>  
><em>It's the wrong kind of place<em>  
><em>To be cheating on you<em>  
><em>It's the wrong time<em>  
><em>She's pulling me through<em>  
><em>It's a small crime<em>  
><em>And I've got no excuse<em>

_Is that alright?_  
><em>I give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>If you dont shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>I give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright<em>  
><em>Is that alright with you?<em>

_Is that alright?_  
><em>I give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>If you don't shoot it, how am I supposed to hold it<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>If I give my gun away when it's loaded<em>  
><em>Is that alright<em>  
><em>Is that alright with you?<em>

_Is that alright?_  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>Is that alright with you?<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>Is that alright?<em>  
><em>Is that alright with you?<em>

_No..._

**-oOo-**

Both girls flinched when Kirby let out a rather loud, body-racking sneeze. She looked over at Bailey meekly and mouthed an apology. It was dusty in the dark store, layers of it covered every surface. Bailey held the axe tightly, ready for any surprises, and felt her rifle scrape against her back.

The small town square was almost void of anything moving, almost. Bailey had quickly beheaded three of the undead and ushered Kirby to the closest building that wasn't already looted or had too many windows. It just happened to be a candy shoppe she concluded from the shevles filled with glass jars with dulled and melted colors and racks of every bar and bag of candy and chocolate... right next to a saloon bar.

After making sure the place was clear they moved into the storage room at the back, blocking the door with a hefty four foot cast-iron safe and checked the back door, seeing a clear veiw of dumpsters, a wooden fence and no sign of the dead, walking or not.

The storage room had a desk and sofa in a corner, Kirby was laying down, eyes heavy but not sleeping. It wasn't a shock to Bailey in the least. But the Dodge was running on fumes and it had grown too dark to stay out in the open to syphon gas. Bailey sat atop the safe, rifle in her lap and smoking a cigerette.

After a while, nature called and she went to the employee bathroom. When she touched the handle to flush, Bailey sighed. She just shut the lid and went to grab the flashlight when her eyes darted to the mirror.

She leaned closer, running a hand to clear the dust for a clearer reflection. A stranger stared back. Hazel eyes darker, one tinted pink that always seemed a bit bleary and itchy from taking a tumble down the stairs back at the campus when she was bringing Kirby to her truck. Cheeks hollower and the round bulbs of their bones jutting out. Her once heart-shaped face had become warped, like someone had pulled a string at the back of her head and pulled the skin tight. Not necessarily ugly, just intimidating, the much shorter version of an amazon. Lips cracked and crusted with blood, with the now white and shiney line that had put a cleft in her mouth in the top left corner. Nose peeling still from sunburn, and a little red. Her once praised platnium hair a more ashen blonde, maybe with some very premature grey mixed into it. Her arms as taut as the rest of her and the duvets of her rib cage showed through her tank top. Bailey had felt weird at first about the second skin jeans and form-fitting sleevless tops. But they were easier than skirts and dresses, they gave more protection against poisonous scratches. Her tan hiking boots tight on her ankles. The light brown leather jacket she wore now that it was turning from swealtering to chilly snug and protected her back from being chaffed by the heavy sniper rifle. She was filthy and greasy, acne showing in small patches not just on her face but seemed to spread everywhere else.

With an aggitated thunk with her thumb and middle finger to the mirror she returned to her perch and saw that Kirby had finally turned over and was fast asleep.

One thing that Bailey found intresting was how much the human body could take, always adapting, changing to compensate and striving to survive without the person's knowledge. Like how much sleep you could deprive yourself of and still function with great clearity. She learned she only had to have three or four hours in two days before the edges of her mind went fuzzy. It took only half a bottle of water a day to keep from getting dizzy and two meals before the stomach cramps kicked in.

She stretched her limits to compensate for Kirby, giving her twice as much as her own rashining.

She kept watch of Kirby's steady breathing when the girl bolted upright and Bailey skidded to the back door, pulling the drawback on her rifle and gesturing to Kirby to stay silent. Gunshots. More and more of them. And shouting. God, when did people get stupid, if they kept this up, the square would be swarmed for sure.

"I want you to stay right at this door, I've got to get rid of the noise." Bailey knew from her stiffness what she ment by getting rid of the noise. _Kill_ the noise.

Bailey slowly opened the heavy back door, looking in each direction, gun barrel aimed first, and slid along the wall. The gunfire was coming from the front, which gave her an element of surprise, she smirked at having the upper hand.

She made it to the corner when a sudden banging jolted her to look back in time to see a lanky figure lunge behind one of the dumpsters, coming from the saloon next door. Then she was ducking down, a bullet digging into the brick mere cetimeters from her head and quickly had the shooter in her sights. He went down with a strangled cry, a shot to his neck and rolling into the grass.

Bailey swiveled around, spotting another that was firing at the one hiding and took him down with ease. The bar's back door swung open again and an elderly man pulled a handgun from his belt in his slacks and shot down another man. Growls and gurggling echoed in the darkness, the undead surrounding the man who had just been shot and began tearing into him, going to each of his limbs and one of the things got a hold of his face.

The old man eyed Bailey and she raised her rifle, looking through the scope and pulling the trigger. He spun around in time to see another man fall back, bullet between his eyes. His nod gave her a small squeeze in her chest, she'd worry about him later.

She moved to the side of the strip and made quick work of putting down the undead as well as two snipers up on the roof. She heard names being shouted from the back and growled. Shit, Kirby was too close.

Shuffling back to get her best friend, Bailey almost ate concrete and fell into the door. She yanked it open and grabbed Kirby's arm roughly. She was crying and sobbing out questions. "Shut up! Stay close and keep your head down. There's things crawling everywhere." Kirby nodded, sniffling and Bailey dragged her back to the side of the building.

The Ram was across the street and a block down the right. Then a white heavy-duty truck skidded to a hault beside it and the driver yelled up to a remaining sniper to jump. He did, rolling off a shorter rooftop and landing right on a spired fence. The truck sped off with the man yelling out an apology.

The old man came into view along with a scrawny asian guy no older then the two girls and a tall man carrying a damn .45 Colt Python. Damn it!

Bailey and Kirby dashed for the red and white Ram, ignoring the trio's calls. She had to get her friend out of their before it went from bad to worse to being royally fucked.

But suddenly Kirby tugged herself from her death grip and held up her hands towards the three men. Bailey let out a long string of profanities and started firing at the advancing drones of walking corpses.

She vaguely remembered hearing them arguing and hollering, Kirby's keening screams mixed in. Then out the corner of her eye she saw Kirby helping them carry the sniper who just happened to be a fucking teenage boy, into their truck. Bailey gritted her teeth, looking back at the mutliplying rotting shells stammering closer and closing in on them, taking shot after shot until her gun made a lame click instead of a loud crack. She was out of ammo.

"Come on!" Kirby yelped from the passenger seat. Bailey had the keys... She sprinted to the driver's side and turned the ignition, peeling out before her door even shut and took off.

**-oOo-**

Apparently the huge revolver weilding stick-figure was a former sheriff's deputy named Rick Grimes. The old man was a vetinerian, Hershal and the asian guy was Glenn. They gave her directions, having to raise their voice over the sniper kid's screaming and sobbing. Finally Bailey ordered Kirby to gag and blindfold him for silence. The last thing they needed was to have those things trailing behind them, or those people.

Rick explained how the okay corall had started and she told them they had shacked up in the shop nextdoor and got caught in the fray. I winced when he told Kirby of the safety and other survivors where they were staying, which was a farmland that belonged to Hershal. More people ment more reasons to get killed. Those things had impecable smell. A bunch of b.o. cowering down in one corner was a good way to draw them right to you.

They decided to circle around, making sure not to be tailed and pulled off on a dirt road for the night. Hershal making quick work to stounch Randall's bleeding leg and it was decided best to get some sleep before going back to the farm. Bailey and Rick taking watch as the last few hours of moon light soon gave way to sunrise.

Kirby was wide-eyed when they started in the right direction, her excitment almost vibrating her out of her seat. She was dishing out question after question. _How many are with you? Is there any electricity? Are you sure we'll be safe?_ All this was giving Bailey a sharp ache in her chest. Each question a needle digging further in. Kirby had to know it probably wasn't smart to assume they'd stay with a bunch of strangers. Who knew how many Genes and Lucas' resided there.

When they found the dirt paved driveway that winded in an odd curve and sharp right turn, Bailey's anxity grew, eyes immediatly drawn to the crowd around a Hundai Hybrid, guns gleaming in the morning sun, being passed around. At least Rick hadn't lied about there being women and his son, who was now running from the large two story white house's porch to her truck.

She stayed in the cab, letting everyone out, but grabbing Kirby on the shoulder before she could hop down from her seat and gave her a pointed look. "Don'y get too comfortable. Remember, we have no idea what these people are like." She averted her eyes, posture slumping down low and was slower to get out of the Ram, standing close.

Bailey let her head fall back, just now feeling her aches and pains. She definately pulled muscles and more likely sprained her ankle. She sat there for a long moment, eyes glancing around, not daring to blink too much. Finally willing herself out of the cab and slamming the door she waved Kirby off and made slow work to stand by Rick, hand twitching, ready to pull her Colt Eagle from out the back of her jeans.

She let her eyes appraise each stranger, not really registering faces but sizing up body language, trying to label every peron. Safe, hostile and undecisive. Then she was suddenly rigid.

Every voice and sound of buzzing insects instantly faded and her vision tunneled out, zoning on the figure that hung back away from the huddle of suvivers.

At first she worried she had surely gone off the deep end, maybe she shouldn't have kept reading those fucking journals. Or that she hadn't survived the shoot out last night. Maybe she drifted off on watch with Rick. This couldn't be real. All those reasons seemed more believable than this actually happening.

Her mind babbling was ground to a hault when Kirby's squeak of a voice piped up.

"Daryl Fucking Dixon."

Everyone had stopped their conversations and gestures, all turning to the man Bailey wanted with a firey burning passion to hate to the very core of the backwoods, trailer trash son of bitch that left her in that hell to die.

Neither spoke, making everyone else stand there awkwardly watching the stare off, wondering if either would blink. But Kirby shattered the deafening silence, stomping her whole five foot six, hundred and two pounds soaking wet up to the redneck statue, rearing her tiny hand back and swinging it forward, making an echoing crack against the skin of his cheek, which barely moved the slightest fraction, clear eyes trained on her's.

Rick was first to responed, going to restrain a violently animated Kirby, who was spouting insults and dirty name calling in his face, and pushing her a ways back.

Bailey snapped from her fixiation and looked at Rick who moved into the middle of the circle. He then spoke. "Alright, I'm going to assume Daryl knows these two. And Bailey and Kirby saved our lives." He gave a strained, drawn out speech about the two girls not being a threat and welcoming them. Bailey had already tuned him out. It didn't matter to her. Now more than ever they wouldn't be staying.

But she could not help but look him over. Not much had changed too drastically. He took well to the empending apocalypse. His hair darker, which was normal when the weather started transitioning into the colder seasons. Longer and now with strands of grey. His goatee growing out to his cheeks and neck. A flannel she vaguely recalled him wearing was rumpled under his denim jacket and she took in a shuttering breath. The leather vest...

She saw the new worry lines in his face making him look forty six instead only thirty six. Skin tanner and red in some places, a sliver of scalp visible between hair at his left temple.

Bailey startled when a hand touched her arm and snapped her head up to see Rick. "You and Kirby can go inside, clean up and get a hot meal inside." It sounded like he had repeated this. Kirby pulled on her friend's hand making the blonde scramble up the steps, trying not to trip when she looked back over her shoulder at the man.

And let the screen door shut at the black man's voice rising, hand outstrected to Randall blindfolded and gagged in the backseat. "Who the hell is that?"

**-oOo-**

Clean, and for the first time in five months full, Bailey felt oddly vunerable. Like she and Kirby were Hansel and Gretyl and the witch was luring them into the oven with sweets and promises too good to be true. And being a pound lighter from removing half a year's worth of filth, blood and things she'd rather not think of made her feel extremely bare, naked.

Kirby however was elated, even going as far as fluffing her hair and taking time to choose what to wear, which made Bailey scoff, saying, "yeah Kirby, a jean skirt will definately help you outrun the dead." The redhead sighed soundly and replaced the skirt with some long shorts then headed for the community of tents outside, wanting to introduce herself.

This annoyed Bailey to no end. That girl was deliberately ignoring her earlier warning and practically throwing herself on them.

She took to walking the property, rifle strapped behind her and eyes scanning the treeline. Not one of those things in sight. She wandered to the east side and saw a single tent, burnt out fire pit and that stupid black SS chopper. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she noticed what dangled from a low branch of a tree right next to the tent.

"Ya' 'lil friend don't know the meanin' of personal space n' manners." His gruff voice made her twirl on him and take a few stumbling steps back at how close he was, close enough to feel his ever present warmth and sour smelling sweat and musk. Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her chin to stare him down, expression cold and yet calm.

"And neither do you."

Daryl snorted, eyes squinting against the sun and looking her over. Bailey cleared her throat and moved her hands to her front pocket. "Damn kid found me after ya' cleaned up, tried slappin' me again. Need ta' keep yer girl on a shorter leash."

She raised a brow, pulling enough strength to act blaise instead of a blubbering idiot she felt she might become if she stayed near him too long.

"I gotta go ta' this meetin', but can ya' come up here later? Alone?" he asked, the slight anger gone from his tone, now seeming tired and a bit desperate.

"Why?" she asked, dropping her fascade and going on the defensive.

Daryl scratched the back of his head and moved to rub on his neck. "'Cause. Don't ya' reckon we should talk? It's been what? Five months?"

Bailey pursed her lips, watching his eyes dart down and wrinkle his nose at the nasty scar there. She sighed heavily regaining his attention. "Fine, but don't expect me to just jump in your arms and kiss and make up."

He gave a curt nod. "Wasn't gonna."

Then she was walking, getting as much distance as she could and made a straight line to her truck, crawling into the back and lighting her first of many, many cigerettes of the day.

**-oOo-**

**YAAAAAAY! lol so tell me what u think, I didn't make it an epic omg your alive, i want to hug u and screw you then get mad bcuz you left kinda thing, remember Bailey's a very jaded, numbed out, cinical young woman. She is pissed but knows going along with emotions in this new world is stupid. Plus she's not totally sold on this group and shooting one of their biggest assests (I.E. Daryl) in the dick wouldn't be too smart lol.**

**As muther effin always REVIEW**


	9. So Think Me Naive

**And chaptah 9 phew, heads spinning lol love me, all this sitting is killing my neck and back and cramping my legs lol. Not a long A/N cause im wanting to spit out this chapter! so on we go.**

**-oOo-**

_**Prelude- A.F.I.**_

_This is what I brought you  
>This you can keep<br>This is what I brought  
>You may forget me<br>I promise to depart  
>Just promise one thing<br>Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep  
>This is what I brought you<br>This you can keep  
>This is what I brought<br>You may forget me  
>I promise you my heart<br>Just promise to sing  
>Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep<br>Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep  
>This is what I thought<br>I thought you need me  
>This is what I thought<br>So think me naive  
>I promised you a heart<br>You promise to keep  
>Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep<br>Kiss my eyes and lay me to  
>Sleep<br>_

**-oOo-**

She sat ram-rod straight against the ruined fireplace, eyes trained on the fire, but glaning every now and then towards the red and white rusted truck she showed up in. Always keeping that Kirby girl in sight, always mindful of her surroundings. It looked as though being in one spot too long was painful. She'd shift or bounce her leg while she spoke. And her voice only faultered slightly, anyone else would miss it. She was trying to keep her words even and blunt. Never letting the stoic expression drop from her face that was so different then he had burned into memory.

He kept staring at the white zig-zag line that marred her top lip, wanting so bad to ask what had happened, but was afraid to at the same time. Or the perminate eye discoloration. Instead he asked where she had been since the outbreak, asked how she ended up with Kirby. It was like a vivid hallucination to hear her speak. Still in that high-pitch, but this new edge made it feral, jungle cat-like. A lioness cub. Something sweet and beautiful, but you knew when the cub matured to steer clear of.

Daryl had first thought she looked so out of place with the rifle that she never seemed to be without. Bailey, who used to be wide-eyed and skiddish toward his crossbow and handgun. The girl that was not violent or even so much as a leader, was the keeper of a loud, mouthy brat that had annoyed him to no end. Especialy now, still feeling a throb on the side of his face.

"Merle's not here." She states, not a hint of emotion in the matter-of-fact tone she had used since showing up to his camp away from camp after the sun had died.

He shook his head. "Nagh, the sumbitch took off." She nodded and let her eyes go to the truck again. Kirby's Keeper. Daryl worried his thumbnail and kicked dirt at the firepit. "Got 'emself cuffed to a roof in the city, coked out prolly. Went back fer 's sorry ass and he ended up taking 'r van. Haven't seen 'em since."

"That's not a surprise." He was getting frustrated, not used to the short answers, he solely remembered her long explainations, getting animated and doe-eyed. Then if you would have asked him he perferred her to stay quiet unless she was naked and writhering, but now. With her like this, it made him nervous, made his skin crawl. He was not liking this stranger, this imposter at all.

But like any herion addict, he couldn't help but reach out and pick up the needle.

The conversation ened shortly after talking about Merle's leave. She let the silence hang in the air, suffercating him, then stood, gave a quiet, final "'night" before trekking off to that stupid truck. And had him wandering, scratching his chin, where the fuck did she find cigerettes?

**-oOo-**

He left for the trees earlier than usual, skipping on breakfast, and made quick work of nailing enough squirrals to bring back. This was all done easily and within two hours. So he circled around the property, eyes darting everywhere until he found her. She was sitting atop her truck's hood and eating corn from a can with Kirby right beside her, looking a bit sullen. Bailey must've berrated her for as much interaction the pixie had done yesterday.

Daryl observed the tight jeans and dark flannel she wore, sleeves rolled to her elbow and boots. Something he knew she hadn't had in her wardrobe before. _His _Bailey was all pastels and flowing fabric. Her now dull bonde hair grown out, pulled tight into a knot at the crown of her head made her look older than just twenty-one. No she was twenty-two, birthday past a few months ago.

She finished her food and waited for the other.

It'd been well past morning, sun drooping into late afternoon when he followed her to the opposite side of his camp. She was sitting on a stump, a crate, pile of half empty bottles of whisky and long strips of towel that she had cut up. He watched, kneeling down, as she began to unscrew the bottles, stuff the rags down far enought to reach the amber liquid and set them carefully in the wooden crate. The damn girl was making molitov cocktails...

He huffed, tired of being an observing bystander, needing that god damned fix, and marched over, string of small furry game swinging on his hip, crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Bailey looked up as soon as he broke from the foilage, as if knowing he'd been there, maybe she did. Daryl stopped at the crate, eyeing the homemade explosives and raised his brows. She kept at her work, doing it deptly, almost graceful like it had always been her hobby.

"Tired of stalking?" He jumped when she spoke, her head still down.

He grunted, trying to shrug off her dead on accusation. "Gotta feed these folks somehow." He held up the dead animals, which she only blinked at before going back to work. Daryl dropped them and took a seat on the grass, knees drawn up and one arm hung over them from the elbow. His other hand picked through the green blades, ripping them from the dirt.

Bailey stayed quiet and collected, not once wavering. His eyes glued to watching her slim fingers as the moved. She finished a few minutes later and pulled out a cigerette from a red and white pack of-

"Where the hell you gettin' all those?" He growled, jealous of both her and that cigerette when it touched her lips. She lit it, taking a long, exaggerated drag before exhailing right at him.

"The store?" Her sarcasm was witty, and made him feel ignorant. He knew they'd come from the store. But anytime there was a supply run, his only thing added to their list was Marlboro Red 100s. But just his luck they would never show up with anything else they scrounged up. So he was forced to kick the habbit having run out months ago. Merle's bud the only alternative, which was looking low now days and he had to better rashion it.

"Here, you look like you're about to fly at it." She tossed him the pack, only two missing, and fumbled with lighting it. Bailey gave a small flash of amusement, but it was gone just as quick as it came.

He let the toxins sit in his lungs for a long moment the let it curl slowly out his nose, resting back on one hand behind him. "Guess ya' looted all the Red's and left none fer me."

She shrugged and took another pull. Daryl watched her with the smoke, not disliking the scene. It made her look demoure and alluring like the old commercials and magazine adds always depicted. He realized she had gown up. No more giggling or blushing. Bailey was a hard woman. Tough.

"How'd ya' git out?" The question was falling with his smoke before he could stop it.

Bailey looked up at him sharply, expression turning bitter and white. She let her eyes narrow just as they had yesterday and flicked her dead butt out far in the grass. "Grabbed some clothes, took the Camino and got the hell out of Dodge."

"But what about..." he trailed off.

She shrugged. "Momma came back from the J and I with a nasty scratch, said some bum grabbed her and turned. Bit Ennis and I took off."

"Yeah, glad that bastard got it. " Bailey nodded, gaze falling back to the crate.

"Went to your place. It was empty, ransacked."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek and stared at the frayed edge of his pants.

Bailey's voice turned acidic, anger rolling off her now. "Didn't think you'd really leave me behind, but that's what you get for wishful thinking, right Dixon?" He glared at her then, his own mood turning dark.

"Don' know wha' yer fuckin' talkin' 'bout," he ground out, teeth gnashing together.

"I bet there's a lot I don't know about. But I know enough now that I obviously was naive and stupid. But don't worry, I learned my lesson."

Daryl stumbled to his feet, expression twisted and face beat red. "When did yew become a huge bitch?" he spat.

"The night I realized your deadbeat brother was worth more than me! Did I even cross your mind? Hell, Dixon I'd have been thrilled just to be dragged along to be your fucking concubine! I had to be alone for weeks, Daryl. Weeks! With nothing to protect myself with!" Bailey was so close to him now, chest heaving and eyes glassy.

He raised to his full height, towering over her so easily, but she wasn't so much as batting an eyelash.

"Yew. Don'. Know. Nothin'." He said slowly in a low, dangerous voice.

Bailey scoffed. "Strike a nerve? Thinking back now? Huh? Kicking yourself now that you could of had all this pussy instead of this dry spell?" She was shoving him now, face livid and shrewd.

Daryl balled his fists, raising one above her face, she gave him a look, daring him to touch her. He was shaking all over, trying to keep from swinging, then suddenly backed away before he did something he'd regret, picked up his game and stormed back where he came from. He couldn't believe her. The profanity she had never used in the past, the wrath in her voice and ice in her glare. _She_ was mad at _him_? God, if she'd had stayed her little ass at home, none of this would've happened.

She'd have been that sweet, innocent girl looking to him to protect her. She'd be the old, the real Bailey Rae Ford he would expect over every other night to get that little taste of heaven.

**-oOo-**

_Daryl felt the air outside was different, the woods weren't filled with any noise what so ever. It was eerie, birds chirping or cawing, enjoying the last rays of sunlight. The hair on his skin stood on end and his fingers and toes tingled with anticipation. Something was wrong. Off. _

_He reached the camper and saw the door wide open. Jebb was in his wheelchair, his rosco pistol in his lap. He was watching the trees, eyes the sharpest they'd ever been. _

_"What ya' doin' old man?" he asked at the foot of the block step._

_"Best move, they're out there. Been roamin' all mornin'. Haven't noticed me yet, though." Jebb had never sounded this serious, it made Daryl bristle, nerve endings sparking. "Radio called it wildfire. Think ya' oughta git 'fore town's overrun, boy."_

_"What shit ya' listenin' to? Told ya' that crap'll make ya' paranoid. Ya' gonna move so I can make us somethin' ta' eat?" he went to step up, but his uncle held out his arm, pushing against his nephew. "What tha' hell?"_

_"Don' sass me, boy! And keep yer voice down. They hear ya' and come runnin'. Now mind me, go git that young gal, git out 'fore it gits bad." Daryl was at a loss, had he offically lost his mind? Jebb had always been rambling things that made no sense or was already done and over with. But this? This was new._

_"Yew, takin' those meds? Doc said yew'd git like this if ya' weren't-"_

_"Ha. Haven't touched a one since ya' started bringin' em. Now do as I say, grab yer girl and leave." Jebb was looking desperate, almost pleading. This frightened Daryl._

_"Then let's git ya' outta here." He started to grab for the wheelchair when Jebb pushed him hard, shaking his head._

_"Ain't goin' nowhere. Too slow. 'Sides who's gon' cover yer ass?" He nodded past his nephew, who turned to see a figur shambling towards the camper, one arm out stretched and limping. It was a woman in a night dress, covered in dark slime all down the front. Jebb cocked the hammer and raised the gun. Daryl's eyes widened. He knocked his arm against the pistol as it fired, the bullet exploding into a tree instead of the woman's head, missing it's mark by inches._

_"What the fuck'er ya' doin'?" He shouted, whirrling on the crazy old took another shot, hitting the woman in the chest. _

_Daryl swore loudly, but then his jaw fell slack and his eyes went wide. She was still on her feet, still coming toward them, growling now. _

_"Damn, idiot! Gon' draw in more. Git yer ass movin', boy!" Jebb howled and fired once more, hitting her right in the forehead. She dropped, unmoving._

_Daryl turned slowly back to his uncle, disbelieving he just murdered someone in cold blood. Then froze, hearing more growling. Seven. Ten. No, more. More were circling in on the small camper. Jebb was snarling at his nephew to leave, to move._

_He was sprinting back to the cabin, feet barely touching the ground. _

_Inside he shouted for his brother, getting only the sound of the tv. Daryl looked out the kitchen window, seeing the motorcycle gone. He growled and started grabbing anything of use, food, clothes the few guns they had and his crossbow._

_The truck swerved, barely missing a crowd of those things and skidded up to her trailer's porch. He reached for his Beretta and checked the clip and chamber as he climbed the steps, the door half open. The lights were out and it was mostly quiet. He could hear heavy breathing from the kitchen._

_He remembered what Jebb yelled out between gunshots. "Don' let 'em gitcha! Radio says ya' git bit! Ya' git the sickness!"_

_He breathed deeply. Hoping those things didn't get to Bailey. _

_A figure lay on the tiled floor, too big to be her. It was that fucker, Ennis Rollins. He was proped against a cabniet, blood oozing from his throat. He was struggling for breath and jerking, twitching._

_He looked up at Daryl, spitting blood at his feet. "Where 's she?"_

_Ennis choked on a laugh and hacked violently, groaning in pain. Daryl kneeled down, grabbing the dying man's collar and sneering. "Tell me where she is!"_

_"Or what? Gon' shoot me?" Daryl shoved him back harshly and kicked him in the ribs. Ennis yelped and began panting, squinting from the sweat that poured from everywhere. Daryl felt how hot the man was through his boot. "She's dead, man! Ran out the house!"_

_Daryl made for the front door before turning back. His uncle's warning sounding out again. He aimed the gun at Ennis, pulling the trigger before he had time to plead out a no._

_He searched the yard, calling out to her and getting nothing in return. He noticed the El Camino was not in the driveway and hurried to hid Ford, spinning out and back on the road. Both Bailey and Merle were missing damn it! How could he lose two people when all hell was breaking loose? _

_His only guess to find his idiot brother was the J and I. He found the elder Dixon with a lead pipe, pummling it into a head that lay in the parking lot. Daryl dragged Merle to his bike and barked for him to follow. _

_The two spent over four hours driving through every street in Little Haven more than once, not finding a damn thing. Merle pulled him off, pissed of going in circles. "Ever think she try headin' outta this shithole? Git in tha' damn truck!" He roared, slapping his little brother up side the head and jumped on his chopper._

_They followed the highway, stopping at Jaspers to loot water, finding most of it been cleared out. Daryl trashed anything useless left untouched when every single Marlboro Red carton was gone behind the counter._

_The two went out farther, well out of the town's limits and Merle led them on to a dirt road into the thick woods. Telling his younger brother they had to sleep and see what supplies they had scrounged up. Daryl grumbled, not too happy with stopping and let out some of the pent up tension on his bumper, abusing it to the point of removing the rusted paint._

_At first light they continued the search, Daryl's hope slipping with the gas gauge as all he saw was trees and pavement. No Camino, no Bailey._

_When the sky had turned and orange and purple, his truck squealed, having put a lead foot on the breaks, Merle almost colliding with the tailgate._

_Daryl hopped through the window, shouting her name and skidding to the beat up car. Empty. No. No. No. No._

_Merle whistled, getting his attention. "Come lookit!"_

_He was standing over a still steaming pile of ashes and... bones. No. The smell was burning his nostrils and making his eyes water._

_"Maybe she-" Daryl let out a great roar, the twisted, horrifying sound echoing back to them. He collapsed to his knees and started repeatedly to thrust his fist into the concrete. Merle grabbed him up by his hair and smacked his jaw hard, jarring Daryl back. "Stop it, ya loon. Look, ya' found a damn car and some bones. Can't be sure it's her. Now quit ya' 'lil bitch fit, hike up that skirt and git tha' fuckin' truck!"_

_Daryl glared at him, shoving him off. "She's fuckin' dead..." And with that, went to the idling truck and ground the tires, shooting off. Merle worked fast to try and keep up._

**-oOo-**

**It's revealed! not that epic lol always a step ahead and always a step behind muwahahahaha! well send meh some reviews!**


	10. What it is You Think I Should

**Chapter 10 yay! lol. Hope ya'll are liking where this is going :) A lot of changes in the near future, at first I was going to right a few chapters after the season finale then go on hiatus, but my sister threatened violence so I'll go a bit AU and see what happens when the show comes back... And sorry for the wait, I lost all power to my charger cord so I have to frequent my mom's to use someone else's lol.**

**-oOo-**

_**Not Ready to Make Nice- Dixie Chicks**_

_Forgive, sounds good  
>Forget, I'm not sure I could<br>They say time heals everything  
>But I'm still waiting<em>

_I'm through with doubt  
>There's nothing left for me to figure out<br>I've paid a price  
>And I'll keep paying<em>

_I'm not ready to make nice  
>I'm not ready to back down<br>I'm still mad as hell and  
>I don't have time to go round and round and round<br>It's too late to make it right  
>I probably wouldn't if I could<br>'Cause I'm mad as hell  
>Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should<em>

_I know you said  
>Can't you just get over it<br>It turned my whole world around  
>And I kind of like it<em>

_I made my bed and I sleep like a baby  
>With no regrets and I don't mind sayin'<br>It's a sad sad story when a mother will teach her  
>Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger<br>And how in the world can the words that I said  
>Send somebody so over the edge<br>That they'd write me a letter  
>Sayin' that I better shut up and sing<br>Or my life will be over_

_I'm not ready to make nice  
>I'm not ready to back down<br>I'm still mad as hell and  
>I don't have time to go round and round and round<br>It's too late to make it right  
>I probably wouldn't if I could<br>'Cause I'm mad as hell  
>Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should<em>

_I'm not ready to make nice  
>I'm not ready to back down<br>I'm still mad as hell and  
>I don't have time to go round and round and round<br>It's too late to make it right  
>I probably wouldn't if I could<br>'Cause I'm mad as hell  
>Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should<em>

_What it is you think I should_

_Forgive, sounds good  
>Forget, I'm not sure I could<br>They say time heals everything  
>But I'm still waiting<em>

**-oOo-**

Bailey had sensed the air of the group when the two former officers returned, definately worse for wear. She immediatly took a dislike to Shane Walsch. The group's biggest snag, it'd only take one more yank before the whole knitted quilt unraveled. There were others too, that concered her. The older blonde, Andrea. She was suffering a major inferiority complex and seemed to shadow Shane. Bailey didn't think this band of survivors would gain anything more than a bullet to the brain or give up.

Most of them avoided her, giving any all attention to Kirby. She guessed it was since Kirby refused to carry any type of weapon and chattered to no end in sight. Bailey was flustered and bristling that all it took to bring her best friend back like the snap of a rubber band was strangers.

She had watched her from little distance, seeing that long forgotten smile and hear a few giggles while sticking close to the kid, Carl. Kirby would eat around their spit in a lawn chair, talk about things that no longer mattered and crack her dirty jokes. Bailey hated to know that it'd soon fade back to that ghost, the dying ember in the morning from the night's bonfire.

They couldn't stay too long. More people were a gamble. It drew attention. Caused conflict. Too many ideas and thoughts to brew, simmer in one place too long and the pot would bubble over. Kirby had to realize this. Had to see it was time that these things, walkers they called them, weren't our only enemy. Walkers were easy, slow and stupid. People? They were dangerous, cunning and minipulative.

So when she pulled that reborn firey pixie from the campfire and on the other side of the truck, Bailey gave it to her straight.

"No! What is wrong with you? We're safe, we found others, alive and they want us to stay!" Kirby shouted, voice squeaking and eyes instantly watery.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Bailey hissed, pressing her into the metal door. "You know we can't. Staying here too long is stupid!"

"You're just gonna go? Leave? What about Daryl?" she spat, face hot and tears now trekking her face.

"He'll be just fine, did this well without me. Don't drag him into 're leaving, tomorrow." Bailey spoke with finality, using her fist as a gavel against the rusted frame.

"Fine, but I'm staying. You can go by yourself!" Kirby made to leave, but Bailey grabbed her hand, eyes closing and taking in deep breathes through her nose.

"I can't do that. It's you and me." Kirby sniffed, turning back to her friend and steeled herself.

"Not anymore. I want to stay... You saved my life, I never said thank you for it. But I like it here. And I'd like to you to be here too." Bailey was chewing into her bottom lip, tasting the coppery blood from pulling off the skin and started rubbing at her face.

"Kirby..." Both girls were sagging their shoulders, not willing to come to a head.

Kirby left her beside the truck, returning to the crowd by the fire. Her only friend, the only person she trusted in this hell.

Bailey sighed, resting against the passenger door and feeling the start of a wicked headache. What would she do if Kirby didn't follow her? Was she below hog tying the girl and dragging her off? Bailey slumped down farther and shook her head, anwsering her own question.

**-oOo-**

She moved around the property without being approached and avoidded any of the meetings that were happening almost every other hour. Kirby insisted going, having spent time with the older man, Dale. She felt it was immoral to just off the kid without knowing if he was a threat. This was all a joke to Bailey. His men shot at us, what made this teenage boy any different?

Bailey clung to the outskirts of the farmland, rifle always tucked over her shoulder and the hunting knife sticking out of her boot. She felt little sparks in every muscle and joint. Each twinge making her want to keep moving, find work and have a game plan. Benning was shot, Rick having confirmed this in the ride here. She figured all military posts would be much the same.

Her clockwork brainstorming was grounded to a halt when she saw him, crossbow aimed upward towards an unsuspecting creature. The squirrel fell from its perch and landed in the dirt at his feet. Bailey went for the nearest tree trunk to hide behind, eyes watching.

His arms had seemed less cut before leaving their town. She guessed for the excess use of the bow. His stance and stride the same as always, purposeful yet with a bit of unconscience swagger. That slightly wrinkled concentration on his face all too familiar.

"Though' I was the stalker?" Bailey huffed, not being as cunningly steathly as she thought she'd been.

She came from her hiding spot, nose turned up and shoulders squared. He wouldn't shake her confidence or pride. "You are." Daryl snorted. " I was passing through."

"Right." She made to keep on her path, away from him, but Daryl had something else in mind. He stepped diliberately in her way, crossbow shouldered and arms tight across his chest. His expression undecipherable as usual. "Look, ya best get that stick thas' up yer ass sideways pulled out. These idiots ain't gonna take too kindly to a stuck up bitch. Officer No-good 'specially."

Bailey scoffed. "I could say the same, besides it doesn't matter what they much think."

"How ya' figure that, princess?" He was agitated, she could tell, his stiff posture and face turning a bit red.

"Heading out in a day or so," she answered lightly, eyes looking straight up into his. Bailey watched his face contort into a sour look.

"Leavin'? Are yew stupid?" Daryl dropped his arms, hands curling into solid, white-knuckled fists. She raised an eyebow.

"It's hardly stupid, this group is a tragedy waiting to happen. Don't tell me you disagree. Too many people is a hazard, a risk. Me and Kirby did fine on our own."

Daryl gave a dry laugh. "So screw me, huh? God, has every damn woman lost 'er mind? Yer somethin' else Bailey Rae."

Bailey gritted her teeth, letting the collected, cool fascade crack right in front of him. "It has _nothing_ to do with you. If you weren't such a childish asshole I'd tell you to tag along, but with your little fit throwing, no way. I owe you nothing, you don't owe me anything. So lets both do ourselves a favor... Forgive and forget, all of it. That girl you knew is dead, she would've died in this shit world anyhow!"

She was seething, the mask of calm wiped free. They hadn't even noticed the sun go down. Both vaguely heard a few shouts of Daryl's name, but they ignored it. He moved closer, so much that she had to crane her neck back to see his face. He was full red in the face, maybe even purple and livid.

"Good Lord! If yer skinny ass woulda' stayed put! I looked fer ya'! All fuckin' night! Thought yew was dead, burnt ta' a crisp, alright? But ya' wanna ferget, thas' fine with me, darlin'."

Bailey opened her mouth to speak, but froze. What? She wasn't allowed to fully process this, because suddenly his hands were hard on her, pushing her back until she was slammed against a tree. Bailey hissed between her teeth and growled at him.

Daryl slid up, flush against her body, moving one hand to squeeze her cheeks. "Almost six months I was thinkin' yew were dead! And come ta' find ya' live and kickin'... I was..." He shook his head. "Then realize ya' changed. Yer right, Bailey's dead... Guess I'll settle fer the leftovers. And ya' ain't goin' nowhere," he growled.

And then she was squirming, gasping for air as his lips crashed painfully into hers. He was unrelenting, pushing his tongue into her mouth, his hand going from her jaw to grip her knot of hair, unraveling it to fall to her shoulders.

Bailey was using every ounce to put distance between her and him, but the kiss was making her light-headed and muscles feel spongey. His other hand tight on her waist. Thick fingers bruising under her shirt and jacket.

She hated his hold over her, hated that her tongue curled and his, a moan shoving past her throat and into his hungry, eager mouth. Bailey was close to losing all resistance, hands an arms turning from pushing to pulling, fisting into his clothes, bringing him in harder.

"Dixon, come on, man!" They heard Shane call out, close enough that he'd probably see the two making out furiously at the edge of the woods. The feverant spell was broken, Bailey shoving him away and panting, hands against her knees.

Daryl let out a frustrated noise deep in his chest and stalked off, leaving her alone.

Bailey, finally able to breath without puffing her chest for air, slid down the tree and sighed. She scrubbed at her face and scrunched her eyes shut. She didn't know how long she stayed there, refusing to let any function return, afraid of her own thoughts rushing forward.

Then, everything hazed over, but crashed back in a strange, painfully sharp clairity as shouting arose, cries and screaming.

She was on her feet, dashing lithly toward the commotion. Bailey skidded around the house, body jolting at the sound of a single gunshot. All that went through her head, over and over was Kirby.

When the crowd of survivors came into view she let out a long breath seeing the top of her red curls, kneeling over something. Closer, closer...

Dale laid there, a dribble of dark blood coming from his forehead and a mess was oozing from his mid-section. A walker sprawled out nearby with a knife wound to its face. Kirby was much like the others, as if she belonged, crying and hovering over the dead man. Daryl handed the Python back to Rick and looked over at her. His expression almost heartbroken, but just like her it was covered in something cold, collecting and calm just as quick.

Bailey remained a good distance, replacing her rifle on her back and kept her eyes on the dark grass. Ignoring the sobs and devistation as much as she could. But hearing Kirby's among them was like a rusted blade twisting in her gut. This death was surely the ammunition for her best friend to win her arguement. She was attached. There was no leaving this group, even if it meant without Bailey.

**-oOo-**

**woah, intense huh? And that make out session? I worried it was borderlined sexual harassment for Daryl lol. Review, tell me what you think!**


	11. Through the Cream

**Another chapter, a little short... but a good one. Glad my posting issue was resolved, a major shout out to JavaNut! You're a sweetheart and I love your reviews.**

**-oOo-**

_**Black Hole Sun- Soundgarden**_

_In my eyes  
>Indisposed<br>In disguise  
>As no one knows<br>Hides the face  
>Lies the snake<br>The sun  
>In my disgrace<br>Boiling heat  
>Summer stench<br>'Neath the black  
>The sky looks dead<br>Call my name  
>Through the cream<br>And I'll hear you  
>Scream again<em>

_Black hole sun  
>Won't you come<br>And wash away the rain  
>Black hole sun<br>Won't you come  
>Won't you come<em>

_Stuttering  
>Cold and damp<br>Steal the warm wind  
>Tired friend<br>Times are gone  
>For honest men<br>And sometimes  
>Far too long<br>For snakes  
>In my shoes<br>A walking sleep  
>And my youth<br>I pray to keep  
>Heaven send<br>Hell away  
>No one sings<br>Like you  
>Anymore<em>

_Hang my head  
>Drown my fear<br>Till you all just  
>Disappear<em>

**-oOo-**

He couldn't help glancing at her, last night replaying in his mind. Daryl was at a loss when he saw her approach the burial sight, looking for the first time in half a year meek and timid. But as reality of this new found world, that look carried an edge. A jagged hardness that had him wondering just what happened to morph a being so much she was almost unrecognizable.

Bailey stood beside her friend, silent and stoic. He felt a twitch in his fingers, their first instinct to reach out and touch. Not out of comfort, or support. No, just a long grained in routine they had shared. Always touching.

Daryl blinked as everyone dispersed, completely missing the enitre sermon Rick spoke. His eyes trailing the shock of pale blonde before it disappeared around the house, Kirby's voice carrying around.

T-Dog's whistle brought him back to earth and he shook his head, situated his crossbow and followed the others to Otis' old Ford.

God how he missed those lips, that taste, her skin and hands. Flashes of a far away past scrambling from one memory to another, tripping on themselves to keep up. Everyone let the hunter drift in and out of perceptive, thinking it was of their lost bretheren. He'd space out, eyes searching the property, his new obsession, waiting for a chance glimpse of her. Still expecting her to be wearing her plain thrift store sunday clothes, hair down with that damn ribbon and a bubbly smile on her face.

Of course he'd never see that now. He questioned his sanity, shrugging the thought off with a snarky self-remark. He lost his damn sanity long before that little girl was born.

Andrea, T-Dog, and Shane all had to at least snap him to attention more than once. Right. They had a job to do. He used the walkers as a way to let out his flustering. Something that had definately made for a very uncomfortable night. He eyed Shane with a scowl, miffed with his interruption. Daryl had fully intended on doing more than some heavy petting.

When he hopped down from the truck bed, eyes mecanically going to the spot where that heap Dodge was supposed to be, Daryl halted in his tracks, making T have to circle around him. It was gone. He jaw clenched, teeth audiably grinding. After last night, after telling her that he indeed gave two shits about her, the little hellfire _still_ left.

A sharp gasp and whine jerked his attention to the house, Kirby jumping up and down with her thumb in her mouth, apparently her hammer made for an apendage instead of the nail. His tightly coiled muscles slowy went slack as Bailey came around the porch carrying a plastic storage tub and shook her head at her friend.

The Red Ram was parked on the corner, facing towards the driveway, back latch up. She was unloading her supplies.

Daryl took his rag to slide over his face, despite it actually being relatively clean. When his legs finally were able to gain control, he was walking up towards the porch. He made it to the nearest post and leaned against it, watching her as she handed the large navy blue tub to Maggie. Stayed, waiting for her to make several passes, her attention never straying to him, whether it was intentional or not, Daryl didn't care... Just as long as she was still here, still close.

A bored sigh startled him from his oogling. Kirby was balancing atop the railing, putting her thumb in her mouth again and looked up at him. Her finger fell out with a slight pop and she gave a timid smile.

"I guess you got her to change her mind?" Kirby asked. Daryl scratched his chin, cheeks flushing despite the cooler weather and furrowed his brow. Kirby snorted, then covered it with a animated cough when Bailey made another lap. As soon as the blonde was out of ear shot Kirby spoke again. "You two weren't very descrete last night... Heard some of the others gossiping." She shrugged her shoulders.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest, uncoiling from his slouch and rolling his eyes. "Them people don' know shit. Didn' do nothin'."

She gave a lame "meh", then started swinging her gangly legs. "Well, ever since, whatever it was you did, she's been weird. Not really a bad thing... but she woke up laughing? Did you lose your special sex god powers or something? So she's sticking around to tease you?"

He tripped over his own feet as he backed away, almost tumbling down the few stairs backwards. "Shut up! A-and mind ya' own business!"

"Oh, come on, Dixon! I'm yanking your chain! I doubt you lost your backwoods rockstar status!" Kirby bellowed as he was making an escape. He growled when several eyes followed him, muttering colorful insults to the pipsqueak sidekick.

Daryl stomped over to his camp, entire body rigid and teeth threatening to crack and break under its girating. He absolutely hated that stupid chick. Kirby Law had way to get under his skin, make him fucking blush and feel awkwardly fifteen again.

He began packing away his belongings with more force than necissary and rumaged around in the side saddles of the chopper, barely making note his black Berrata was missing. He did all this with a cigerette dangling from his mouth and a deep purple scowl on his face.

The clearing of a throat made his swivel around too fast, dizziness making his vision double for a second.

Bailey stood next to the old fireplace, thumbs hooked into her jean's beltloops. Her hair was down, he guessed he broke her only hair tie. The straight tendrils falling around her pink tinted face. The light dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose almost completely invisible. She was nibbling her bottom lip, something he was glad to see hadn't died with the rest of her.

"Wha' yew want?" He asked, defences still raised, irratation high.

"I heard you and Kirby... You're _not_ the reason I'm staying." Daryl felt a sharp twinge in his gut. She sucked in a breath. "Okay. Last night, what that was..." She sighed loudly. "Ugh. Why?"

He blanched. Why? Daryl just looked at her, cigerette dangling from his lips forgotten.

Bailey came closer, keeping a safe distance, making sure to be out of easy reach. "Why did you just-And don't think it's gonna be anything like before. 'Cause it's not, it-it won't, understand? This-" she pointed between the two, "is strictly mutual. This screwed up world, screwed up group, is enough complications on my plate, alright?"

Daryl winced, taking the burning filter from his mouth and flicked it in the dirt. He did _not_ take well to a _girl_ telling him how things were to be. He quickly closed the distance, seeing her eyes go wide and bent enough to brush her nose with his.

"Listen here, girly. I'll do what I want, ya' ain't my boss. Like yew said last night. I don't owe ya' nothin'. Now leave me be, heard 'nough naggin' fer one day."

Bailey scoffed when he pushed her back by her lower stomach and smacked his hands away. He sneered, watching her march back toward the farmhouse, hearing her hissing curses. Daryl snorted and shook his head. That strange exterior of hers was flawed, imensely so, and he planned on taking it down, piece by fucking piece.

**-oOo-**

"I'ma go take a piss." He left Rick as Shane started his little hissy fit, turning the corner of the house. He and Rick were soon to go drop the kid in shed off a ways from the highway.

Upon reaching a secluded patch of grass he settled down, picking at the blades and letting his mind wander, rewinding to times that didn't matter no how anymore.

_She giggled, scratching the rolls of furr as Gunner bound on to the bed, between the two. Daryl groaned, being pushed aside for the mutt. Bailey rubbed at his underbelly, gaining happy pants from the dog. He now was well past fifteen pounds and loved taking all her attention. He thought it was bad enough the runt wriggled its way into the wedge of bodies at night, snuggling under the covers._

_But now, as he had her almost naked, him in his flimsy boxers and dealing with a rock hard erection, Daryl wasn't in the mood for sweet puppy affection. All day he had watched her move around the porch sweeping and wearing a skirt. It wasn't anything new except for earlier in the day, she had brought their lunch..._

_Daryl admitted he set himself up for discomfort, being his genius plan, by taking her into a stall in the barn and teasing her without mercy. Using only his hands and ripping up the soft cotton of her panties, using enough force to snap the band on one side. After tormenting her until Wade called him out, he tore the other side and bunched the useless fabric in his back poket._

_So she carried on the rest of her day completely bare under that just-above-the-knee skirt._

_When she came over that night, still dressed the same, he dragged her to his room, forgetting the one thing he should have made sure to do. Close the god damn door._

_He rubbed at his face, palming his painful hard on and shut his eyes. Why couldn't he hate that damn hound? Bailey curled around the thing, whispering baby talk, ignoring her partial nudity and apparently him. Daryl peeked over at her, seeing that dimpled smile of hers, hazel eyes bright and shining. Watching that made his hormones seem unimportant, pushed to the back burner. _

_Gunner growled and yipped playfully, rolling around and climbing on Daryl's chest, licking any surface he could. Bailey was tinkling with laughter and watching the ordeal. He made a noise of disgust and decided the pup had his share and went to put him out in the hall, firmly shutting the door._

_He turned to see Bailey holding in giggles, biting her lip and splayed out, face tinged in a slight blush. His arousal came back with a vengence and he was quick to climb over her, tiny wrists in his hands and groin pressed to her's. _

He wasn't sure why of all the memories that one surfaced. And stopped before anything _good_ happened. No, he focused on that damn dog with her. A perfect recollection.

"Rick! Rick!" He heard from Shane. Up near the shed he saw everyone gathered and Shane was storming from the treeline, nose bloodied and spitting out words. Daryl was quick to his feet, hearing of how Randall mysteriously got free from the cuffs and out of the sturdy building without touching the combination lock on the door outside.

Daryl wasn't ignorrant. Walsh was spinning some kind of story of a scrawny teenager getting the jump on him, armed, managing to steal his gun and knock him to the ground with a rock.

"Alright. Hershal, T-Dog, get everybody back in the house. Glenn, Daryl come with us." Rick warned all to stay put, giving orders for Andrea and Bailey to take watch from the porches front and back.

**-oOo-**

**So, I'm soooooo cracking up over Kirby. Now that she's happy about staying, meeting new ppl I'm guessing her new fav. past time is teasing Daryl. Hehehe. And liking how Bailey's all flustered ad tripping on her own words. Their all stumbling around awkward teens its so fun to take a slight breather in between the drama and events in the shows.**

**tell me whatcha think audioRKO**


	12. Hell Followed with Him

**Back for another one. If anyone reads my little A/Ns I'm thinking of posting one shots of various NR films. Such as BDS, Tough Luck, Red Canyon etc. while writing this. Also a ff story has been acumilating on the back burner for a Scud fic (Blade) it'd be totally AU with some romance. Also a BDS ff, but I'm scared to vear off on those and neglect this one. Grrr hate my ADD/ADHD brain lol. I've got the next 8 chapters of AWTD planned ahead and figuring where to go. And on my down time sit and brainstorm the shizz out of it. BUT every now and then I do start prattling off story beginnings on paper. So probably going to wait to come to an end on this story (if I can even end it lol) to start anew. A lot of his roles are interesting and I wanna explore them, his ff fan base is way understated in my book. Anyways enough of my rambling. Here's the season finale chapter, think it'll be kinda long, fingers crossed and hope ya'll like some walker killing from our favorite OC!**

**A/N: So sorry its short, sister and grandma stayed home, couldn't sit down for as long as I'd like, so this chapter will be split in two and I'lll try to post 13 sometime this week.**

**-oOo-**

**The Man Comes Around- Johnny Cash**

_"And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a white horse"_

_There's a man goin' 'round takin' names,  
>And he decides who to free and who to blame.<br>Everybody won't be treated all the same,  
>There'll be a golden ladder reachin' down.<br>When the man comes around._

_The hairs on your arm will stand up,  
>At the terror in each sip and in each sup.<br>Will you partake of that last offered cup,  
>Or disappear into the potter's ground?<br>When the man comes around._

_Hear the trumpets hear the pipers.  
>One hundred million angels singin'.<br>Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettledrum.  
>Voices callin', voices cryin'.<br>Some are born and some are dyin'.  
>It's alpha and omega's kingdom come,<br>And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree.  
>The virgins are all trimming their wicks,<br>The whirlwind is in the thorn tree.  
>It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks,<em>

_Till Armageddon no shalam, no shalom.  
>Then the father hen will call his chickens home,<br>The wise man will bow down before the throne.  
>And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns,<br>When the man comes around._

_Whoever is unjust let him be unjust still.  
>Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still.<br>Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still.  
>Listen to the words long written down,<br>When the man comes around._

_Hear the trumpets hear the pipers.  
>One hundred million angels singin'.<br>Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettledrum.  
>Voices callin', voices cryin'.<br>Some are born and some are dyin'.  
>It's alpha and omega's kingdom come,<br>And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree.  
>The virgins are all trimming their wicks,<br>The whirlwind is in the thorn trees.  
>It's hard for thee to kick against the prick,<br>In measured hundredweight and penny pound,  
>When the man comes around.<em>

_"And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts. And I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him_

**-oOo-**

The second shot rang out in the Georgian night, bringing everyone's attention to the dark forest ahead. Rick and Shane were still out there. And when Bailey saw Daryl stop on the porch, she knew tonight would be one to remember. Far out past the clearing, shadowy figures shambled about, a migration of certain violence heading straight for the farmhouse. Bailey could almost see Death heading the decimated army on his pale horse in the distance.

Everyone was quick to grab weapons, Bailey forcing an alluminum bat into Kirby's shaking hands and demanding she stay right there. Then tapped Daryl's arm. "You drive and shoot, I'll throw," she said, nodding towards the crate full of molitovs.

His ripping growl of the motorcycle caught the mass of walkers attention. He brought it to a hault at the wooden fence, reving the engine a few times and started firing Dale's pistol. Bailey took out her lighter, catching the first rag and chunking it hard into the frenzied horde.

The splash of flames quickly spread amoung them, rendering them sensless, bumping into others and letting the fire latch to the next.

She continued her assualt, aiming for clusters and being nearly dead on. Once throwing her last, the barn further back light up with a blaze from the inside. Reaching for her rifle she began a rapid birage of bullets, dropping walkers with ease.

Bailey had to keep a firm grip on her gun and find purchase of Daryl's vest as he skidded on the gravel towards the RV where Jimmy was shooting. She could barely hear anything amongst the gunfire, roaring flames and shouting. Then Bailey was aiming again, repeating in her mind, we can do this...

When the Rv ground out towards the barn, the other vehicles were mobile, passengers leaning out the windows and firing at walkers. Bailey kept an eye on both the impending horde and the farmhouse. Lori and Carol screaming, Kirby holding the bat high on the top step of the porch, eyes wide and face liquid paper white.

"Did'ja hear me?" Bailey snapped to his attention. "Git on back to the house, git 'em out of here! Head to the highway." She was sprinting before he finished, Kiby in her sights.

The women still waiting for the others were in tears, Lori crying out for her son and Carol persuading her he must be with Rick. Bailey knew they didn't have time. "Get to the closest car and go! Now!" She ordered, joining Hershal to keep the dead from getting to close. Otis' blue Ford sped up to the side of the house and she watched the glint of red hair clamber into the truck bed. Female screams overwhelmed all other sounds as walkers shrouded Patricia.

Click. Bailey sucked in a breath and reshouldered her rifle, already out of ammunition. There were far too many to kill with her skinning knife in her boot, but drew it anyways, grabbing the back of Hershal's shirt collar, hollering that it was time to go. They fumbled backward, trying to put distance between themselves and the undead.

Bailey felt pain shoot through her ankle and then the world turned upward, her feet slipping out from underneath her. More firery pain exploded from the back of her head, making her vision go black for a moment then turned spotted.

The gravel scraped against her back, ripping the fabric of her jeans as Hershal was now dragging her away from the greedy, bloodied and boney fingers that reached out for her. Bailey struggled to get to her feet, boots slipping under the loose driveway and causing her to flail about in panic.

A shot behind the two jolted her into a calculated collective state, air rushing into her tightened lungs. Another bullet whizzed over Hershal's head and landed into a female walker that was amlost atop Bailey. "Come on!" It was Rick. He came to Bailey's side, helping to get her upright and they made for her Ram, Carl starting the ignition and sliding into the back.

Bailey moved to the passenger door. "My ankle's fucked!"

Once pulling away from the battlefield, Bailey slumped into the seat, closing her eyes and panting. Her head spun rapidly and the ringing in her ears was shrill and worried her that maybe she was suffering a concussion. Numbly she felt around the back of her head, feeling only strange twinges and her face grimacing. At least the shock was keeping the pain down. Her fingers though were covered in blood when she pulled her hand away and her boot felt way to small for her foot all the sudden.

It was harder and harder to keep herself alert and consious as the Dodge hummed on the road and her eyelids growing heavy.

A gasp ripped through her throat as she was jerked in her seat. She looked over her shoulder to see Hershal gripping her shoulders, his lips were moving but Bailey couldn't hear what he was saying. The truck cab was tilting like a carnival ride and the movement churned acid in her stomach. Was she dying? She couldn't recall any fatal injuries, she hadn't been bit or scratched. Maybe she just needed to rest. Rest was good, Bailey could already feel the power of sleep dragging her down.

The sudden sting on her face had her sucking in air like surfacing from being left to long at the bottom of a lake. Loud, everything was too loud. Voices, the tires against the loose gravel, crying. And nothing was clearly defined, just blurs of color.

Another sting to her cheek, this time in sharp focus was Hershal. He was pleading, the tone of his voice a bit on the desperate side. "Ya' have to keep awake, ya' hear me?"

Bailey tried nodding, understanding most of what he was saying. Words like shock and concussion. Sleep, brain damage... Then he was shouting at Rick from the driver's seat. She blinked furiously, trying to keep awake.

This episode lasted until morning. After she was halfway to lucid, Bailey crawled into the shell-covered truck bed and was forcing two dry granola bars down with some gatoraid.

It was late morning now, the sun settling in the sky, warming the Ram and Bailey. She tried not to move more than necissary, her head smarting something aweful. Hershal had looked over her ankle, wrapped it with a shirt Kirby had wadded in the truck bed and tried his best to clean the gash in the back of her head. She wondered breifly if she had lost enough hair from it to have a bald spot, but scrunched up her nose and tried not to think about it too much. But that brought on something else. _How long did she have until her face was unrecognizable?_

Bailey let her mind trickle to who would show up to the highway, who would have made it. Sick as it was, she had a list... And it was short. Thankfully she was wrong on many of them. But two that she never've guessed were missing. Shane and Andrea.

Kirby was amoung them, Bailey automatically pulling the girl into her side as she sobbed soundlessly. She tried staying focused on the plan of action, if you could call it that. Rick saying they'd drive west, salvage what they could in the morning. The dispute of going back for Andrea. Concluding that Shane was Dead. All the voices swirling around her made her vison fuzzy and brought on a case of ear ringing. She pushed Kirby in the direction of the Ram and climbed in beside her. Looking at the somber girl made her bite her cheek, bitter towards herself for wanting to say 'I told you so'.

**-oOo-**

**Not my best work, but i wasn't alone today so its short, will get better soon after i get past the last episode, expect a little drama and suspense muwahahaha and happy late easter!**

**REVIEWS PWEASE**

**audioRKO**


	13. Hell Followed with Him cont'd

**Here's part two of chapter twelve lol. Sorry I split it, just wanted to post and didn't have the time I needed, but here is the conclusion of the second season. Now is where it goes totally AU and what not. Hope you enjoy some Bailey/Daryl agnst!**

**-oOo-**

_**Another Way to Die- Disturbed**_

_The indulgence of our lives has cast a shadow on our world.  
>Our devotion to our appetites betrayed us all.<br>An apocalyptic plight.  
>More destruction will unfold.<br>Mother Earth will show her darker side and take her toll._

_It's just another way to die._

_There can be no other reason why.  
>You know we should have seen it coming.<br>Consequences we cannot deny will be revealed in time.  
>Glaciers melt as we pollute the sky.<br>A sign of devastation coming.  
>We don't need another way to die.<br>Can we repent in time?_

_The Time bomb is ticking and no one is listening.  
>Our future is fading.<br>Is there any hope we'll survive?_

_Still, we ravage the world that we love.  
>And the millions cry out to be saved.<br>Our endless maniacal appetite.  
>Left us with another way to die.<br>It's just another way to die.  
>Can we repent in time?<em>

_Greed and hunger led to our demise.  
>A path I can't believe we followed.<br>Black agenda's rooted in a lie.  
>Will we repent in time?<br>Species fall before our very eyes.  
>A world that they cannot survive in left them with another way to die.<br>Are we dead inside?_

_Can we repent in time?  
>It's just another way to die.<br>Can we repent in time?_

**-oOo-**

Bailey had ignored her instinct, threw it in the fire, and now she was watching it burn with everyone's last resolve, last dying hope. Once more Kirby had thrusted in on herself, quiet and skiddish under Carol's arms. But at least she kept the aluminium bat close to her, thin stubby fingers touching the grip tape as if reminding herself it was there. That was close to the only comfort Bailey could lean on.

And now the wild card was no longer Shane, but the man who killed him. The former sheriff's deputy had killed his brethern, then tried to justify himself. Like that was needed in this world now. Rick's words clouded over her like a threatening thunderstorm, the chances of lightening looming, and Bailey felt they were all just holding out metal rods, eyes closed and waiting for it to strike.

Then the stiring of everyone infected? No chance at dying without becoming a reanimated corpse... It wasn't so much of a shock, it had crossed her mind, but the confirmation made her go completely numb. The code of ethics, morale and the line of right and smart was etched away, dead with the old man and Shane. Rick shut anyone down, taking any chance of choice gone.

Bailey couldn't sit around the others, a single thought going through her head that had her face blank and eyes glazed, blinding everything out. So that's what everyone saw of her. Rick had made the descent she had, falling from that pedistool, becoming something less than human. Self-disgust crawled underneath her skin as she stepped away from the small fire pit, enjoying the crunch of leaves to break the suffercating silence.

She went as far as the creek, hearing the dull roar of the waterfall and sat at the bank, rubbing at her face and toeing her boot in the dirt and rocks. Thankfully her head was only throbbing and her ankle just annoying and not painful.

The snapping of a twig had her at attention, twisting her body around, buck knife in hand, bleary eyes scanning for movement. When he cleared the treeline she let her muscles go slack and returned her sight to the rippling water. He came to crouch beside her, sitting on his haunches and laid his crossbow in front of him.

After chewing on his thumb for a long moment he spoke, barely over a whisper. "You were right..." He looked over at her briefly, definately uncomfortable, but making an effort no less. "'Bout how ya' would've died if, ya' know, didn't... change."

Bailey scooted more to face him, catching his soured expression. Daryl was a man that'd much rather eat razorblades than admit anything he was wrong about. She tried to hide the twitch of a smile by biting her cheek.

"Maybe I should've had more faith that'd you'd come for me. If I'd of stayed put... You'd have protected me." Bailey let out a long breath, rubbing her hands over her thighs, pursing her lips. "It wasn't fair to go off on you. And I forgive you for what happened the other night."

He let out a mix between a snort and a grunt. "Forgive me? So was I imaginin' ya' havin' yer hands all over me? Yew are somethin' else."

"Forget it, then. I'm too tired to argue. Right now, it's best to at least act civil. What's happened doesn't matter anymore. It won't do us any good to keep our head's up our asses."

Daryl turned to her fully then, eyes sparking. "That's it then? Three years of... of-"

Bailey have a short dry laugh. "Of what? Screwing? That's all it was, Daryl. I'll even go as far to say friends, but lets be honest with ourselves. I don't expect anything from you and hope you feel the same. Have you watched Rick and Lori? Feelings complicate things, make you stupid. Don't tell me you want to start something now."

His nostrils flared and she could feel the heat rolling of, shoving her harshly. "I ain't talkin' 'bout marryin' ya'. Good Lord. Just sayin' we ain't through and yew know it. Ya' can't sit there and tell me there ain't a damn thing left in ya' that knows there's somethin'. That's what's stupid."

She sighed heavily, pulling a cigerette out and handing him the pack before sparking up. "Look, there's no room for that shit. Not now. We need our minds sharp, lingering on the past is sooner rather than later gonna get us killed."

"Then don't linger." Bailey scrunched her eyes shut, feeling her head start to tilt and spin.

"Please, don't. Don't make this harder than it needs to be..." she breathed, hating that her eyes pricked and stung. "I'm barely hanging on by a thread as it is."

Daryl growled, clambering to his feet, chest heaving. She imagined his face turning purple in the dark. "What is with yew? The one person, _one person_, that I could stand to be around for more than two seconds is yew. God, what happened that was so bad to turn yer nose up at me? Ya' act like them. Think ya' better'n me."

She was bolted upright, bringing herself dangerously close. "You are such a fucking child! Better than you? That's rich, Daryl. Play that card any time you don't get what you want? You're asking for pity, well you have it. I feel sorry for you! Jesus Christ, you've got your thumb shoved so far up your ass for the fact that I'm not huddled into your side like some useless coward. You can't stand the fact that you no longer have a say so for anything over me! I tell you I want to call a truce and you just throw a bitch fit because it isn't what you want? Too bad. It's high time you grow up. Stop acting like you're a victim in all this. " Bailey had lost her venom at the last sentence, eyes blurred with tears she refused to let fall.

He leered down at her, knuckles stretched white over bone, tight enough to hurt at his sides. Face acidic and rigid. Then suddenly he was grapping her face, squeezing her cheeks hard and leaning down. "Ya' tell me ta' grow up? Least I know when to admit I'm human."

Bailey shoved at him, fists colliding with his broad chest and nashing her teeth, seething. "Stop it! Just stop!" She started wretching, chocking on a sob and trying to keep upright, falling against him. "I don't want to fight. I can't anymore. I can't be what you want me to be. I won't!"

Daryl was still, letting her hit against him. Eyes watching the young woman crumble right in front of him. It was like a train derailing. Something horrific, but you couldn't look away. "They took that from me. I thought they were safe... I-I..." And then it was too late. Tears trecked down her face, her knees gave out and she was lost to the rest of what was left in this world. Her sanity shattering from so many knicks and cracks from everything, finally undoing what five months of building up that barriar, that blockade of perserverince.

And he was pulling her tight against him, burrying her face into his spoiled shirt, fingers bunched tightly in her hair. Her muffled screams dragging wetness to his own eyes. He did this. He forced all of this. Took a sledgehammer to the meticulous structure and brought it to ruin in just a few days.

It took well over half an hour until she became quiet, putting a space between herself and him, sniffing the mess from her running nose. He let her, hands out and ready, cautious for another episode. But it didn't come, to both their surprise. Knees under her chin, eyes focused on the dirt and rocking ever so slightly. But she spoke, and her voice was tiny, quivering like a frightened child.

"They found me on the side of the road, stranded. They were nice at first... then... But I was able to stop it before either could- that's how I got the scar. Punched hard enough my teeth sliced right through. Got a hold of their knife and just... burned the bodies after that. 'S their truck, too."

Daryl remained silent, teeth grinding at every word. Bailey peeked up at him with shiny eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. "It's nothing short of a miracle that I found her alive, then the odds of seeing you again?" She laughed humorlessly, shaking her head.

"Don't that say somethin' to yew?" he finally asked, fingertips ghosting over the back of her hand. She looked down at the touch, chin trembling as it sent electrical sparks up her arm and warming her skin. "The chance that you stumbled right on to that farm... Got'ta mean somethin', right?"

Bailey forced air from her mouth, pushing her hair back from her face and straightened. "Maybe it does. But what... what we were... it'll never- we can't go back to that, Daryl."

His palm covered her pale hand completely. "No. It'll be differ'nt. Just 'cause I talk slow, don' mean I'm stupid." She couldn't hide the half smile from him. After a pause she nodded and turned her hand over, lacing their fingers and squeezing.

Daryl cleared his throat, feeling a bit uneasy with the innocent affection, something he'd never done in his life was hold a girl's hand. This was a suprise to Bailey and found herself liking the flutter in her chest at the contact.

**-oOo-**

"We should start looking for shelter, the cold's going to slow us down soon. Traveling in winter is plain stupid," she said, both circling the camp to keep watch. He nodded.

"Been thinkin' that too. Need ammo, gas... " He trailed off, eyes sweeping the woods, hearing a quiet snap, crossbow drawn up. When nothing emerged, his stiff posture relaxed. "But stayin' in a build'n that'll hold more'n likely be harder for me ta' find food. Jus' try fer somethin' close 'nough to hunt."

Soon Glenn and T-Dog toke their post and the two settled in a corner against the what was left of one of the brick walls. The others were figitey and restless, limbs twitching and whimpering off and on. Bailey couldn't find it in her to even close her eyes, senses too alert.

She nudged him with a shoulder, eyeing Rick while she spoke to Daryl. "He's going down a dark path... He's unbalanced, reckless..." He had to strain to hear her, but the point made across. Rick was a loaded gun, she knew this all too well and watching for herself, she realized it to be an ugly, wretched thing.

He stayed silent, eyes darting to Carol. Bailey rubbed at her temples and slouched lower, it was going to be a long night, for everyone.

When morning finally came, Bailey had winced and hissed as she moved about. Joints stiff, head pulsing and ankle still jabbing at her last nerve. Rick had given orders for Glenn and Maggie to go search for gas, leaving everyone else to take invintory and look over the map. The dilemma was deciding east or west. Bailey saw the torn expression on their dictator, but kept her mouth shut.

Kirby stayed in the back of the Ram, out of everyone's way and was looking after Carl. Carol waiting in the passenger seat.

With virtually no food or water, or ammo for that matter, she figured they'd have to search for an outdoors outlet or a gun shop... that wasn't already cleared out as well as rely on Daryl for game.

It only took Glenn and Maggie a little over an hour, carrying only four jugs of fuel. With the old Ford abandoned back on the highway, the Ram and Huyndai were crowded. Bailey had no desire to be crammed into any of the vehicles but took her place in the truck bed and delt with the uncomfortable silence amoung the others and cleaned her rifle, even though there wasn't any bullets left for it.

At that moment she stared out the window, realizing her journals were left behind and wished she had them now.

**-oOo-**

**Hope it was worthy of my readers so review, I need some lovin!**


	14. Find that Saving Grace

**Okay, took somewhat of a break... Two reasons. 1) I couldn't type from home. And 2) I dug around my jumbled brain and came up with a totally new storyline for our characters. It'll heavily lean on the comics, BUT since I have no way to actually read them, I reseached the crap out of them and it will be AU from that as well for a few happenings. So bare with me its a change up. Meaning characters and places in the comics will be almost alike, but events will be different, aside from a few huge things...**

**-oOo-**

_**Saving Grace- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers**_

_I'm passing sleeping cities  
>Fading by degrees<br>Not believing all I see to be so_

_I'm flyin' over backyards  
>Country homes and ranches<br>Watching life between the branches below_

_And it's hard to say  
>Who you are these days<br>But you run on anyway  
>Don't you baby?<em>

_You keep running for another place  
>To find that saving grace<em>

_I'm moving on alone over ground that no one owns  
>Past statues that atone for my sins<br>There's a guard on every door  
>And a drink on every floor<br>Overflowing with a thousand amens_

_And it's hard to say  
>Who you are these days<br>But you run on anyway  
>Don't you baby?<em>

_You keep running for another place  
>To find that saving grace<br>Don't you baby?_

_You're rolling up the carpet  
>Of your father's two-room mansion<br>No headroom for expansion no more  
>And there's a corner of the floor<br>They're telling you is yours  
>You're confident but not really sure<em>

_And it's hard to say  
>Who you are these days<br>But you run on anyway  
>Don't you baby?<em>

_You keep running for another place  
>To find that saving grace<em>

_Don't you baby?_

_You keep running for another place  
>To find that saving grace<em>

_Don't you baby?  
><em> 

**-oOo-**

His jaw ached, teeth surely stripped of all enamel from all his gritting and grinding. Bailey's explaination last night had started a fire in his belly and boiled his blood. But, keeping a level head, he stuffed down the rage he wanted to let loose. Wanted to lash out at the nearest object, wanted to kill those bastards a thousand times over. But, with the group dwindling, tired, hungry and scared, and the look on her pale, broken face, he reined in his temper, for the first time in his life.

He questioned how it was possible, picked and dissected the querry the entire ride. She had sat there, telling him what those two had planned to do. Sure he was rigid, knuckles threatening to tear through his skin and teeth throbbing in the pressure he barred down on them. And her expression, expecting him to explode like a land mine. But it never came. He could see in those watery hazel eyes, pleading to just let it go. They were long dead, she fought them and killed them before getting too far and there wasn't a single fucking thing he could do about it.

Still... What power did she have to stomp out the fuse, short fuse at that, and make him pull her close, so damn close. And another first. Daryl had not once, ever cried over a damn woman. How did a girl that admitted that they were simply friends that had slept with each other regularly make his throat dry and chest tighten when she looked his way? He felt this odd behavior was dangerous territory, Bailey had even said so, that it was stupid to get involved in something serious. He wasn't sure what she ment by serious. Like a couple? He couldn't say they'd be dating. Not anymore with how the world was now. Lovers? No that was too weird for him to label as that. No, he'll stick to what Kirby labeled them as. Friends with benifits. It fell nicely in the way he felt about her. Cared about her well being, didn't mind the idle chatter and certainly enjoyed the intamcy of their _relationship_. The word was foreign to his usual mind vocabulary.

He could feel the splitting headache already as his thoughts became louder, questions circling all around her. Not much was thrown around about where they'd go now, or any of the important things to keep them alive. No. It was _will she let me kiss her now? Why didn't she opt to ride the bike with him? Did she mean they couldn't be physical anymore when she said they couldn't be like they used to? _

The blare of the Ram's horn behind him caused his arms to jerk, the bike skeetering over the loose gravel. He corrected the wheels and brought it to a stop, instantly killing the engine. Daryl blinked, seeing his surroundings for the first time. It was a roadside truck stop. A long, curved paved path with a building in the dead center, two doors marking the bathrooms for men and women. Along the drive was a few picnic tables and trash bins.

Rick annouced they'd hole down in the bathroom, the lack of accessable windows and the heavy doors enough to keep anything out. The vehicles were parked past the trees enough to keep them from easy sight and their leader rounded them up into the dank and less than appealing women's side.

Glenn took first watch, climbing the roof and gripping his shotgun that had only three rounds left. Bailey huddled Kirby to a far corner, speaking in hushed tones, trying to get her to close her eyes. Daryl stayed a few feet away, legs spawled out, hands fiddling with his crossbow in his lap. He was listening to her words. How she reminded Kirby of a past summer. Swimming at the creek and ending up with chigger bites that itched and swell for two weeks. He remembered seeing those, that was the summer he had talked her into going deep in the woods closest to the mountains for a weekend. Last year...

**-oOo-**

_He snickered, fighting to keep from bellowing with laughter as Bailey, in her scuffed up Keds and sundress, was stumbling behind him as they took the steep incline up the lower mountian terrain. They'd been hiking for at least an hour and a half, him leading her to the flat perch he frequented when needing an escape from the mundane, stagnate life he was stuck in._

_Once reaching the clearing, Bailey heaved a sigh of relief, dropping her pack and taking in the Georgia sky backdrop. He watched her with her eyes wide and mouth forming an o at the view. Daryl couldn't fight the smirk tugging at his lips while he pitched their tent and she was making circles around the incampment._

_She ate the sandwich she prepared for them both in easy silence, sitting with legs crossed underneath her and sneaking glances at him as he sipped his beer. The first sign of piece he'd had since Merle's release for the fourth time he'd known the girl. A well needed vaction was deserved after they'd both dragged his older brother from the porch to his bed, ignoring the white powder sticky and clumped to his nose and the sick sweet smell of bud hanging around their yard. _

_Bailey, who refused to stand back, had taken one side of the man, while he took the other. Had removed his boots and brought a damp wash rag to clean his face. Daryl watched in amazement. Merle had only ever insulted her, or made vulgar comments that surely would make any girl feel disgusted was treating his dead beat older brother like a sick child._

_This girl, his girl... though he'd never call her that aloud, never shouted, never nagged... She accepted and made things simple, fluent and easy for Daryl. Anything that stood to ruin his day was worth it when she came through the door and warmed his bed until the early hours of the morning. She didn't ask for commitment, didn't whine about not holding her hand or whispering mushy sentiments in her ear after sex. It was like God had finally let the sun shine despite his never ending of pissing down on him. And it made him excessively wonder how the fuck he got so lucky? A woman that cooked and cleaned for him, took care of his physical needs and never once asked for a relationship. _

_That thought made him look over at her, the tell tale ghost of a smile that seemed ever-present. Her eyes bright and full of warmth, even in the dark. _

_She felt his gaze, like she always did, and caught him staring. Even in the fire pit lighting, he could see her cheeks flare and her eyes flickered back to her sandwhich. _

_Daryl let his mind cross into strange territory, thinking about years down the road, when she became older. He couldn't picture her still watching after those kids and cleaning house at twenty-five or anything. Would she move out of their town? Go try a new life in some city? Work up money for college or head to some fancy place to play her music? It made him worry his skin of his thumb, had him lighting up another cigerette not a minute after his last. _

_He couldn't see him ever moving in a more direct future. Settle down, kids... the whole bit. That was something he fully intended to avoid. People like him, like Merle... Dixon's didn't acheive the white picket fence dream. Those who tried ended up like his mother, hurt, lost and left to dry. Plus, tying her down to a lifetime of finacial struggle, of nights with Merle off his rocker and Daryl wasn't getting any younger. _

_No, his girl sooner or later would grow up, become a woman and meet some handsome man that could provide for her, want babies and he'd be a thing of her past. The memory of a time she had the only rebellious streak and put it away... forgotten._

_He knew it'd be a matter of time, and just planned to ride it out, if she wanted to end it... It'd be on her terms. He'd be a bit pissed and sore, but let her go... God, how he hoped time would slow to a crawl if not stop completely. He wanted-_

_Daryl blinked, shook his head and guzzled the rest of his lukewarm beer. He couldn't answer that, not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know the answer himself. He was no stranger to casual sex, but when that female invades him like a virus, slowly at first... going unnoticed, then consuming every cell in his body until when he saw her again the pain in his chest that hadn't registered in his mind would be smothered out by her kiss, her moans and anything else that she did._

_There was something in this bizarre arrangement that both excited him and gnawed at his brain. Dangerous territory. He could admit to himself he _cared_ for her. Hell he drove down to the J and I to beat the shit out of Ennis Rollins, earning himself a few splits and puffy bruises, all for her. Bailey had come to him, stayed with him. She seeked comfort from _him_. _

_"Daryl?" He jolted, eyes darting from his cigerette to her face, which was drawn up in curiousty and a hint of worry. How long had she been trying to get his attention? He gave a quiet gruff in answer. "Do you think your brother's okay by himself?"_

_He snorted, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke to the side, away from her. "'S fine." She nodded, small hand holding a stick now and drawing in the dirt._

_"Is he the only family you have?" Her voice was quiet, timid, like she was walking on eggshells. Words slow and a bit shakey._

_Daryl was quiet for a long moment, chewing his thumbnail and squinting in the direction of the stars. "Almost... Got's an uncle and mah old man ain't dead yet. Life sentence in the state pen." He shrugged, not looking over at her while he spoke. _

_"What about your mother?" He felt his bone go rigid and hated how they ached, how his throat constricted, he took a good long pause before replying. "Dead. 'S all I know."_

_He heared her sniffling and made sure not to look, knowing she was crying. What the hell brought this all on? He brought her up here to escape the real world for a few days, not list off his family tree._

_"Oh. I lost my Daddy and sister. Momma's all I got left after Nana died. It's how I ended up here." He stayed silent, desperate to just drop the subject, debating on telling her to just shut up and drag her to the tent. But Bailey continued talking. "Bess, my sister, she was a little older than me, six years. Her momma was beautiful too, like her. Daddy never got over her, but after having me, he quit seeing women. Said us two girls were enough. Bess was in ballet. She was good at it too. I tried to be like her. But 's no good at dancing. She was tall and had this air of elegance. I use to get so jealous and mad. Anything I did, she was better at. We were fighting... the last time I saw her. I had stolen her charm braclet, wore it to school and lost it on the play ground. She was so furious with me. Daddy had to take her to her recitle... The cops told me it was quick. They didn't suffer much."_

_The entire forest had gone dead silent, as if all of the wildlife was listening to her story. Daryl winced and pursed his lips, tasting warm copper and salt in his mouth. He'd chewed his lip until it bled. _

_Daryl shifted beside her, unsure of what to do. But she was speaking again before he could decide. "Sorry, it's none of your business. I shouldn't ruin this for you." Then she was sliding into his lap, lips and teeth moving against his neck, hands finding their way into his hair. He pushed the discomfort out of mind and started for the tent._

_She didn't make it a sappy, slow and romantic. In fact she was undressing herself quickly, letting him sqeeze and grope however he pleased. Daryl was greatful, not entirely sure he'd be capable of sweet and gentle. Bailey let him turn her to her stomach, pressing the side of her face into the few pillows they brought and pulled her hips up as he kneeled behind her. No build up, no foreplay to create a mood. Just blind hungry sex. He knew it's what they both needed. He forced himself into her with a heavy grunt, earning a high-pitched whimper from her. His fingers digging into soft pale flesh at her sides and his other hand gripping her shoulder to bring her roughly to him. It didn't take long to have her making loud unlady like moans and cries. In minutes both were a sweaty, muggy mess. Skin slipping against one another, knees scrapping, losing purchase on the nylon sleeping bags, making their movements clumsy and more desperate. Daryl had to keep dragging her ass back up when she started sliding, her arms giving out from his powerful drive. He could feel her thighs shaking and the pulsing that was wet and hot all around him. She wanted this merciless pounding. Beat out any coherient thought, leaving nothing but physical to drown it out. And he wanted it to. To force out anything that wriggled its way into his head and focus on that few seconds of pure adultrated exploition. _

_His orgasm racked him so hard, the muscles in his stomach and legs cramped, made his toes curl, seering white blindness under his eyelids, hearing her cry out and squeeze around him tightly. _

_They didn't say a word, just panted and laid there side by side in the dark tent. What was there to speak of? Besides his brain was spongey and his blood hadn't quite made its way back north anyhow. And he almost gasped when she burried herself into his side, lips touching the sweat on his chest, ribs and stomach. He let her, keeping his hands under his head and trying his best to calm his heart for what seemed the hundreth time that night._

**-oOo-**

The sudden jolt to his leg pulled him from the memory, she had accidently tripped over him. She gave a breathy apology and made for the door, giving the excuse of a perimeter check. Everyone else was asleep, light snores coming from every corner.

He was up on his feet, grabbing his crossbow and following after her.

She was easy to spot, making her was towards the vehicals, useless rilfe in hand, eyes scanning everywhere. It was only seconds that he fell into step beside her. Bailey remained quiet, accepting his company with a vague expression and slumped shoulders. Daryl walked close enough that they'd brush against each other's arm and watched her jaw move as she bit at the inside of her lip.

He reached for her elbow once they were near the Ram, stopping out of view of Glenn.

She looked up into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, do something. But all that came out of his mouth was, "need ta' start lookin' for that shelter, before the snow hits. Gonna be a bad winter." She simply nodded and moved to lean against the truck. She offered him a cigerette and lit her own, tossing him her lighter.

"Should talk to Rick, he hasn't said a word about where we're going. Not even sure where we are, either."

He let the smoke billow from his nose, tucking a hand under his arm and crossing his ankles. "Still close ta' that river. Think he's been followin' that. Staying close so we don' die 'a thirst."

Bailey turned to face his profile, exhaling soundly. "I've been thinking... While we were on the road. You told me Merle had done time in the state pen, right? Maybe, it'd be worth mentioning to Rick. Solid walls, heavy fencing, watch towers. There's bound to be stocks of canned food, weapons..."

Daryl blanched, face growing hot. Why hadn't the thought crossed his mind? It was no shorter of a fortress and would be ideal for the harsh weather. Close to hunting grounds and access to water. He was bobbing his head and working the shredded cuticles on his thumb.

**-oOo-**

**Bum Bum Bum! lol so again, sorry for the wait and the kinda shortness. It had to end there, didn't look right dragging out a discussion with Rick and the others about it. But review, tell me whatcha think pwease!**


	15. Untitled

**Here's 14! Sorry it took so long, internet is really screwy this month. But you'll hopefully like this chapter. It is short, but gots some Bailey/Daryl stuff =D**

**-oOo-**

**No song for this chapter, sorry**

**-oOo-**

Bailey watched Daryl from the corner of her eye, trying her best not to turn his attention from their surroundings to her. Descretion wasn't a thing they could take for granted anymore. He was tensed, every muscle under grit streaked skin was spasming and tightening. His energy had always made him edgy. Even before all this shit, he'd never been one to just relax. It was everything in him, from childhood to this present day, always expecting an attack of some sort.

This kickstarted her memory, clearly recalling a few times of him flinching away from a sudden touch to his face. One detail, one that she had been vaguely oblivious to, was he initiated contact. He even cringed at his own brother's touch. A slap on the shoulder or a cuff to the back of the head. How she had overlooked this was disturbing to her. Sure, Bailey knew he was a victim of abuse and neglect from his only family. He'd told her, in his own way that was just a short sentence, when she saw the dark ugly scars for the first time. Raised and angry littering his torso, his legs and hidden beneath his hair.

And now, with her own markings of violence marring her once angelic face, she could see the unappealing prospect of unwarranted physical contact. The unexpected now days was dangerous... And not just outside forces catching you in an ambush, but even those closest to you. Shane turning on the man he love and trusted most. Lori driving that wedge between them. Carol pushing for Daryl to pull the rug out from underneath Rick. No one expected any of this. No compromise within the string of survivors, all of them had worried over strangers and walkers. Never coming to the conclusion that they, themselves would be their own ending.

Bailey had known this, hated herself for letting both her and Kirby, even Daryl, get dragged into this mess of human error. Emotions were your worst enemy in the new world.

She sighed heavily, annoyed of her brain running circles again. She had revisited this train of thought through and through. And it caught his attention. They stopped again, just out of Glenn's sight and he lowered his crossbow to move closer and peer at her soured expression.

Her eyes wound slowly up to meet his and she breathed in each puff of air he sent to her mouth. This was the least amount of space between them he'd been since the night Dale died. She couldn't decide if it was something she wanted, needed maybe, or should avoid. Unexpected...

Daryl kept still, searching every single space in her night darkened eyes. For what, she hadn't an idea. But after a moment it was unbearable, the silence. Feeling a bit weary and heavy with mental exhaustion, Bailey gave out another deep, harsh sigh and brought herself forward, slowly, until her boot nudged his. Large hands found their way to her throat, gentle and cautious. She closed her eyes for a minute and took in a shakey breath.

He was warm, so very warm. And leaning towards her... but stopped just as his nose brushed her's. He was letting her decide. In all the time she'd known this man, he'd made the choice in these types of things. And never this sweetly. Daryl wasn't sweet. Wasn't gentle. Bailey never complained, just accepted and let him steer her blindly.

But this? He was holding out the reins for her, waiting on what she'd do next. Bailey blinked, face going blistering hot, up at him. Mouth slack and open, eyes wide and shining. It seemed all the gears to function her body were grounded to a hault. What was she supposed to do? He was putting all trust in her hands, which were metaphorically already full, and waiting.

Slowly, with numb limbs, she touched his hands with her's and slid them away, stepping closer and placing his palms at her back, never losing his gaze. Then moved her fingers towards his own. And until the last second, ducked her head, tucking the side og her face into his chest.

Daryl was rigid, and holding his breath. Bailey could hear the beating of his heart, thudding mercilessly against his sternum, making her blood pulse just as fast. It took a long while before she could feel the swell of his chest, taking in much needed oxygen, and his heart rate to steady out. And when his muscles began to unwind, flinching occasion out of habit, she let the corners of her mouth curl up.

Her, Bailey Rae Ford, had hugged Daryl Dixon... And lived.

The thought made her give a silent laugh the shook her much smaller frame and look up to see his face twisted with annoyance. Guilty of laughing at him she tightened her arms and raised up on her toes to brush his cheek with her thin, chapped lips. He remained perfectly still, letting her meld herself into his chest and clutched the leather of her jacket.

Both stayed that way, holding on to one another, for a few minutes. When Bailey finally loosened her grip and peered up at the man, his eyes were closed, head down and expression unreadible. But then he was gasping as her mouth barely grazed his. This time when she pulled back, Daryl snapped his eyes open and the intensity in them was like a flaming arrow right into her chest.

It wasn't a second later that he had his hands in her dingy, greasy hair. Bailey waited for his lips to crash into her's, but his kiss never came. No, Daryl slowly lowered his head, tilting her own back, keeping the eye contact. Even in the dark she could see behind the transparent blue the raging sparks and flames that roiled and clashed. All for her. In the three years she had known this man in front of her, never had he been this way, this close, this _open_. Part of her was wincing, seeing how vunerable he really was. The other was screaming, warning her. But it was far too late. She'd broken every other rule, what was one more? He'd keep her grounded, that was no doubt. He could be trusted to protect Kirby, he'd given her every ounce of himself in that moment. And all it took was an apocalypse...

Bailey took in a sharp breath, blinking and breaking through the tension-filled air. Daryl let his hands fall to his sides. She took advantage of this and reached up to push her lips to his, not as gently as before. He thawed easily and reciprocated. Her hands moving to delve under his shirt, fingers running over the hot skin of his chest. A gutteral sound rumbled up his throat and into her mouth. He was quick to recapture her hair, fisting tightly, drawing a low moan from her.

His teeth clumsily grated against her's, tongue sliding around her's, hungry, carnal and domainering. It wasn't some earth-shattering kiss, both breathing loudly through their noses, blindly groping and making animalistic sounds. She hadn't expected him to be sweet, to be soft and tender. Nor did she want it to be. He was all man, all grit. Like sandpaper. It hurt, but scratched the itch.

His white hot lips trailed down her jaw, licking, biting and sucking towards her throat, nosing the fabric of her flannel and jacket to expose more skin. Bailey hummed, eyes fluttering, enjoying the hand squeezing her backside and the sting of her hair being jerked about. She groaned opening her eyes as he went lower, straining past the first button on her chest.

And just when she was about to throw caution out the window, reality came stumbling from the shadows, snarling and reaching out with barren, boney fingers. Daryl growled, pushing her back, drawing his crossbow from his shoulder and firing without aiming, the walker halting in its fumblings, dropping to its knees and falling back.

He cursed wildly, grumbling under his breath as he pulled the bolt from the corpse's eyesocket and wiping the gore on his pants. Bailey was hunched over, hands on her knees and panting. Her whole body tingling and flesh covered in goosebumps. She felt his eyes on her and glanced up to see him, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. The former fascade of a chavunist blanketing back over the complex layers of all that was Daryl Dixon. Bailey rolled her eyes and went for her rifle. "Come on, before a search party starts. Need to talk with our fearless leader, anyways." She kept her voice even, passive. But that devious look on his face told her he knew how much her insides were buzzing. Her eyes trailed down, a crooked grin appearing on her own mouth and raised an eyebrow. Bailey gave an unlady-like snort and started back to the bathrooms, hearing a rustling of denim and the clanking of a belt as her readjusted himself.

Rick was perched in Glenn's spot when the two emerged out from the line of trees. She paused at the Women's door, letting Daryl go ahead of her and turned to look up at the former officer. Using the side dumpster to hoist herself up, she came to crouch beside him.

"There might be hope after all, Grimes." He snapped his head to her, glazed eyes sharpening into acute focus and eyebrows knitted together. "A few hours drive from here is a maximum security prison. Could be what we're looking for. Concrete walls, fencing, bars. Something worth considering."

Rick's lips were pressed in a thin line, mind's wheels turning rapidly. Bailey hurridly began stating facts, spitting them out before he could get a chance to speak. "Of course, we'd need to send a scout, who knows what state its in, and the possiblity of some immates still there is a huge risk. But canned food should be there, maybe weapons... if its not already cleared out."

He shook his head. "No one leaves the group, best to stick together."

Bailey narrowed her eyes. "And what happens if we come upon hardened criminals with four women, one being pregnant? Rapists and murderers. One person going to look is easier. Could go unseen."

"And if this one person is caught, then what? They'd be on their own, unprotected. And its five women... Or did you purposely leave yourself out?"

She averted her gaze, letting it sweep the dark, then returned to his attention. "I am best on my own. You know I am. And the others can barely take care of themselves. I go on foot while you hunker down a few days. Save on fuel and raid the vending machines. It'll take at the most a few days. Go back to the highway, take a car..."

Rick was chewing violently on his cheek, squinting at the shingles on the roof. "You have no ammo, and that knife ain't going to get you out of a messy situation."

"That's why I plan to go back to the farm. We left too much behind. Food, water, weapons. Then head to the prison. If it checks out, we've got more than enough to last the winter. Since we're... a smaller group now."

"I can't just let you go alone. At least take someone with you."

Bailey steeled herself, straightening her shoulders. "There's not enough people that can defend themselves. I can."

"No. Like you said. Rapists and murderers. You're not invincible. Best bet is to take Dar-"

She was quick to cut him off. "That's stupid, Rick. He's the only chance you have of a food source. That emergancy stash isn't going to last much longer. And if something did happen to both of us, then all of you would be up shit creek without a paddle. I go alone."

"Thats my only condition, Ford. He goes with you or no one does. We can manage a few days without him. "

Bailey glared then hissed at him. "Fine. But just remember this was your judgement call. You understand? They starve, its all on your hands." She watched him sigh and give a faint nod.

"We'll go in the morning. Just before first light."

Back inside the restroom, light snores echoed off the tiles in whispers. She squinted to see him slumped against a stall and was relieved he was asleep. Bailey curled up in a space close to the door, away from any others and closed her eyes.

**-oOo-**

**Whatcha think? Some steamy smuff -well sorta... Please review so lonely heres :\**


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